Apathy ranked high
In a list of long morals
That ruled the Big Speak’s ritualistic world
Visions confused as actions
Daylight confused as laughter
Dogs barking at parked cars
That swam away in a sea of surfboards.
The mothers cried
But held their tongue
For their culture had been shifted
Into bravery, brutish endurance
Ending in self-righteousness
So tightened by affirmations
Conflicting with daylight savings
While observing from a park bench.
But don’t tell lonely
For the Big Speak’s confused
That rhetoric means engagement
And slaughter means community.
Tag: bench
Sudoriferous (day 2584)
I wasn’t sudoriferous
But then I found you
Golden moment of bliss
Sun streaks in ghastly clouds
Summer foliage in bloom
Like sweatened tea, my memory,
To a field with a cliff
And a fence and a bench
And a water tap found late in the night
Since the day I found you,
Turning me sudoriferous.
Faded (day 2572)
I wandered into a great mission bell
Symptoms I had thought undone
Dried landscape, cactus, tumbling sage brush
Full brim upon my ringing head.
Without a shining pistol to my name
No weapon had come to arm;
With my wiles I winked upon
A sweet lady resting there
Upon a wooden, well worn bench
Nestled shallow within the shade
Of two dried lips steadying the sun
And two tear drops settling in,
For in a moments recollect
In a conversation with a ghost
The history of each footprint
Came rustling quickly back
Like the wind out on a saddle
Rustling each tear, dusty
The moment had passed,
The dog returned to rest,
And ringing faded away.
Green to Red (day 2422)
A lonely number
In a foreign country
Counting up
To a better memory.
If there was ever
A busy street,
Let stoplights turn
From green to red;
Let park benches sit
On friendly pathways.
Come Here Before (day 2113)
I am filled with forbidden passion
And necromancy
Unbid and skeletal
In a full moon sitar
Keeping me up at night
Eyes stare calmly
Dancing a slow waltz
With herself
Through a barren rose garden
And two lines of benches
Marked with names
Of those came here before.
Ode to a Perfectly Placed Bench to Enjoy Nature (day 1775)
About my way
A merry one I should say
I wondered to myself:
My dear sweet man
What have you done,
You’ve gone and walked yourself out.
So there I was
A bit confused
Wondering what I could do
To rest my weary legs a while
To recoup my troubled mind.
And all at once
You appeared to me
Like some magic: unleashed
And set free,
Which I took as queue
And found my rest
Upon your well worn stead.
Taking Dinner Along the Seawall (day 1440)
Glimmering thought
Steel bench seats
Delicatessens
Bare Hands (day 998)
When my sun rises over East
I sit at my bench and wait
And whisper to my gods in prayer
To bring me all their rain
So that I can find the strength
To hold my head high again
And if my bare hands I shake
That worked the earth for seven long days
Should hold in them a crying shame
Then it shall be for me, forever rain
To wipe away these falling tears
Before my sun sets again
From my bench I sit and wait
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