Voices of the Bird (day 358)

If only I could recognize
The many voices of the bird
The many dialects of our winged little friends

I think had I the power
To communicate with the breeds
I’d learn many things indeed

But this is my destiny
Be it as it may
I shall sit here today
Enjoying how they sing to my soul

Atop This Hill (day 357)

I’m not alone on this hill
Of which I sit atop here today
No, I’m joined by a few
Estranged souls come to view

One of which that has hair
The fiery red of the devil
Another with hair of an angel
A third who has hair
So dark that it shines
Against the pale blue
Above here today

That man over there
With wild hair and a beard
Perhaps intends to imitate
Orwell in his form!

Ah what a day
What a glorious day
Alive here in London
And these trees

I can hear in the distance
Children playing and laughing
As if school weren’t still in session
Perhaps it’s the day
Where all go out to play
Giving teachers a moment to relax

…side note: I should have brought corn nuts with me up here…

Orwell (day 356)

Today I do roam where Orwell has roamed
I sit upon a bench he did use
Perhaps with a breath
And a length of my hair
I shall hope to hear what he says
For then, in the end
With the hopes of my wind
I could find myself content
In his shoes
But had I not found
The peace he once did feel
Then I too would fall in a heap
So pretend for a while
As I am at this hour
That I sit in a place
He once sat

Mother (day 355)

Your honesty is overwhelming when you walk away like that
Here I am pouting, you talk on your phone
Clearly I’m demanding attention from you, mom
Clearly you’re not interested, lame bastard I am
These marks on my being will forever be scarred
I cannot forget them, ingrained in my conscience
I will grow old and remember with contempt and disdain
Perhaps not this moment, but many like it will come

Mother, please help me
I need your kind patience
Help me to find it
What will make me a man
Then in my pastime
When idle and old
I’ll remember you fondly
As a good mother should be

From Without Within (day 354)

I have been watching myself crawl around these corners as of late, from the mirrors encircling this room that I lay upon
I quite enjoy the serenity of observing oneself from within the landscape of ones own charm
It’s like a close encounter with another, a feature that has never quite grown old and continues to grow
Comfort like a curve that has yet to be populated with the distinction of hair

These mirrors are not cracked at all, nor do I plan to crack them
Perhaps I grow old and shed my find cloak like the snake that glows
But I shall not tire of watching the curves of my eyebrows race their way south
Into the depths of my ear lobes and further towards my nose
I shall not grow weary of the assembly gathered upon my chest
Some of them curly, lots of them old crow
I don’t believe in alterations of the plastic kind
Those which require surgeons to enhance what doesn’t seem to exist
This is a modern folly, of which I am not victim
Perhaps it would be better I didn’t voice my opinion

I as my master do conquer what I’m made of
I listen to its lurches, I succumb to its will
I help it move forward and feed it more fuel
Today I have explored from without and within

Forever it is Now (day 352)

I sit waiting in this park for an answer
For the solution to the next month and 10 days
Perhaps it will come in a moment of clarity
Like the lost tides of sands forever gone

But then, as I feel it would collapse all around
A passing dog roams my way and licks at my toes
For this, I cannot ignore as a fate of the future
I cannot pass up this chance to find peace

Thus prompted to gather my wits about me
I feel my way through the dark into the darker
Exploring like a traveler en route unmapped
I seek what is known not to me

Then faster and faster I gain in my speeds
I look to the right and then to the left
The darkness turns into motions and blurs
Yet too fast to decipher as if a flickering murmur

Then all of a sudden, from the depths of my soul
I reach for a light switch; flicker then glows
I pass up the easy road for the road I’m on now
Today is my adventure, forever it is now

Local Hole (day 351)

I’ve been here before
This local hole
This traffic pattern
This left over dismal
Pit of destruction

Perhaps it’s maybe not that bad
Perhaps it’s maybe a lost cause

I’ve pulled on this string
Left it alone and desolate
Barren in it’s future
without hope and lost
Callused and abused

Perhaps it’s its design
Perhaps it’s just counseling

I’ve calmed down these gates
Without warning I’ve left
The hope has lasted again
I’ll wake tomorrow and see
That the work is finished

Simply In Vain (day 350)

How much has been said about what we do find
Deep beneath the solid layers of pine
We rake and we groom, shovel and we dig
Perhaps it’s all in the shape of our rig
The ending is the beginning is the same in the rain
The trollys will continue, in circles hardly vain
Then here, with the lot of it, we sit and we pout
Trying to figure out the riddles of our gout
Even with the long lines, and bustling desires
Have we ever found a whistle blown not by a squire?
So then we do perfect that which we’ve had all along
The deepest and darkest and lightest of songs
It’s one and the the same
Simply in vain