Image of Gage Skidmore at the Wikipedia
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Be not afraid of dazzled eyes
that throw their chains to trap your heart.
Unaware slaves of static labels
creep slowly at mud,
They embrace blindness
of light and smut.
To get you out of freedom's way,
they shout at once and point your skin
fearing the wonder forms that wind
shapes with its luck, its core, its blood.
The fashion bells ring like steel,
strident, shocking, cold, acute.
The sound of nature turned mute
as beauty's sorcerer speaks loud.
All that matters is freedom's mood.
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