Dusty Paths of Past, Present, and Future (day 732)

Pull at me and listen closely to my hum
I rock to a rhythm, smooth back and forth
Like well worn arches out on the porch
A motion that wears deep through my history
Bled out my pores of hairy callused skin
Drug over years of toil and pressures
Mechanically pushing back daisies
That dust the path of the past

My story runs deep, like the mighty Fraser Canyon
Rocky cliffs and small tufts of grass
Where wild big horn sheep roam the hills free
And Native Americans corral beautiful salmons
Into their chutes in the fall for smokings
A lunch for colder seasons ahead
Natural processes retained for years

I’ve taken mighty rapids, class 5 with no portage
Straight on with my birch bark canoe
I’ve trapped many animals: foxes, cougars, and rabbits
Some I’ve let go, others I’ve tanned to keep me warm
Through colder seasons, six feet of white snow
And after the deep winter I’ve found high plains
I’ve run wild and free with jubilant glee
Roaring my wild head like a stallion: head of the pack
Then in my moments of charge and conquering
I’ve been run off the edge like a wild buffalo herd
Sent to my death in a natural community grave
One houndred and fifty feet down for a rocky death

My minds eye has seen a crowd gather around
Watching while others start to throw their stones
The crow has brought fortune to the lands I’ve crawled over
Where feathers flow downward into hands of the elders
Placing their wisdom upon whispers into the wind
Which I’ve caught with long glances, two eyes half closed
But my third eye, wide open and listening
For the words spoken into the wind

There have been days, with un-clouded sun
Beating down at my back as I push dirt to and fro
I’ve brought life to earth: strong spruce and tall fir
Long have I pushed a farm’s herd in early spring
Rain has fallen, in sudden flash thunderstorms
Flooding my lands all around I’ve been harvesting
Taking away my stronghold, my safety and security
Plummeting me to my natures own demise,
Struggling away at the fast currents I’ve been
Pulling at my senses and drowning in murky waters

Where long have I been lost out at sea
I’ve found one strong hand that’s pulled me out to safety
Laying me flat out gurgling with the breakers
But upon this life raft, this boat of grace
I’ve spoken with the winds speaking back out at me
It is not for the weather that I’ve suffered so
But from my own intuition I’ve led onward ho!
Aghast, the disbelievers have stepped back in horror
Striking fear of the lord in me with forced penance
I’ve cried long and hard for my own forgiveness
But left out details and implications of all of my dirty deeds

Tomorrow I shall build up around in the dirt all around
A castle so mighty, it will sharpen my eye
I won’t burn bridges others so voluntarily fry
For with help it is forward in direction I fly
Begin it with laughter, in good tune does fast work go
And I shall remember as it’s forever where I’ll die

Run Like Thee (day 641)

Listen locked up troubadour
I’ve had just about enough from you
Flat tones with hardly any decibel
What part of the unwritten story
Didn’t you read?
Weren’t you just a little bit stunned
When the little Draculas
Began roaming these cliffs
On the cold nights
The windy nights
Where out in the distances
Witches are heard
Cooking up their recipe
Madness with glee
Forever is the preciousness
Longing is the game
Put forth a valiant effort
And you shall not run like thee
You see
Troubadours and lab technicians
All united; a singular cause
Pulled into the parking lot
Brushed away the wild sea
Battled the neckerswaps
And unscrewed the top
Crossed the great yellow barrier
By walking in through that door
The market was ahead of them
It awaited there lovely wallets
Where they stared in all it’s preciousness
In glitter and in shine
And you shall not run like thee
You see
Pulling away from the parking lots
Mad hatters and tea sets
Blinded by ammunition
The Troubadour and his silent friend
Set out for sea
Bleeding through darkness
Into night
Peddling for fire starter
Drinking whiskey for the cold
Laughing at all glorious things
As wheels of giant steel spun
You shall not run like thee
You see
Past moons and past reefs
The cold sea lay in splashing
Madness settled over mortals
Hell welcomed in
Demons and rat infested decks
Lay crawling amongst eyes of stranded
Bitterly washing away stains
Laid down by the blood of another man
Coveting distant targets
Booty unheard of, unfound
And you shall not run like thee
You see
Reaching the distant lands
With the devil at their backs
Reeling from sheer horror
Exotic bazaars and neon lights
Collector man watched his pray
As the Troubadour and his friends
Circled the shore
Marching two by two
Their prize lay in the hands of a king
Bloodshed played over widowers
Death lay the victim asleep
Washed over with a thin black veil
With a light shower of diamonds
The King was laid below
And you shall not run like thee
For thee has run too long
Over distant mountain tops
Into far off valleys
Soaring across blue skies
Crumbling foreign castles to their demise
Fair haired spoils
Fruits of hard labour
You see
You shall not run like thee
Black masks and pony tales
Sidekicks and sport goggles
Ripped jeans and too good hats
Curly hair and bending knees
Diamonds in these eyes you see
It is over for you thin man
I see you standing there
Troubadour in your madness
You shall not run like thee

The Heavens (day 195)

This journey has been tortured and turned with the omnipresent glare of the eagle
The desires of conquest have been hindered by the scorn of angels
The love has never been spared by cupid, nor by a hungry lover’s eyes
Yet the gears still turn, the ride still rolls

This ascent has been beaten with brutality of breath
Baited with the promise of one pure and descending glance towards the worlds we’ve passed through
A view from the heavens, a wonderfully epic moment of hysteria
As the clouds below part and clarity is felt like the needle sinking in

Mother, won’t you cry with me, die with me
As the young ladies last romance curled its gnarly fingers around the seeping demise
Withered air collapsing into the cruel hands of zero gravity
Mother, won’t you cry with me? Die with me.

No Girls (day 99)

The kids play lazily as the captain he takes aim
The daughter of the third mate, she takes upon his love

The game it begins
And two men grin

The daughter she’ll only take one

Long lasting memories of two voyages previously
Makes the captain and his men

~

Good plans
But a lady on board

To all of their horror
Will prove this ships demise

In the daughters disguise

In all of our eyes
Take heed in the rule of no girls