Month: November 2013

Dispelled Legions (day 900)

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Legions of piping bands
Tunics bedazzled with
Ten foot peacock feathers
Rubies hemmed with gold
Chin straps and rosy lips
While out of breath
Gasping for breath

Left right left
Left right left
To the tune of ancient mariners
Ramshackled by a recent gale
Lonely and bygone
But strapped with infinite hope

Discovering smiles
On passing children
Who stop and stare
Slack jawed and dreaming
Holding mother’s pant leg close

And the song chirps loudly
As all of us dream
Focused determination spreads
About each members mane
They walk the fine line
Between 7th and Fraser
15th and Vine

On past these streets
In a cold autumn breeze
Biting into saturated spectators
With empty bottles of hot chocolate
Rattling along with cold children
And dispelled souvenirs

Shallow (day 899)

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New age heroes backtracking my history
Plunging my knowledge into depths shallow
An abysmal abomination bleeding
Without attention – slowly growing more pale
Shuddering at steps of continual growth
Spiritual connection

Wolf pack howls at the onslaught of night
Quickly scattering the mice and easy game
As midnight blue enters souls of all living
Masking horror forgotten – unexposed
To hungry prowlers let out loose
Given to animality

Contour edges of my heart like madness
Incorporate symbols of vengeance and betrayal
Of once and then lost
Of loose soil – six feet shallow
And layer my justice like skyscraping urbanalities
Because I have no right, no ritual

Scraping Elegance (day 897)

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Wouldn’t it be worth it
To fly amongst wizards
Scraping elegance
From nearby apple trees
Pressing gladly
Into mirrors of deceit

Running callused fingers
Along loosened hairs
Billowing forgiveness
Between eyes of smoke

Escaping lethargy
That grows stronger
In children of love
Screaming without fear
Naked little babies
Blinded by ignorance
Inbred

There – and lost with madness
Like laughter fading
Into darkest night

Wouldn’t it?

The Back Of the Book (day 896)

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Why does the world have to die like this
An endless jaunt through crowded parks
Heartaches that climb up through the heart
Passed by breath from lung to lung
Lumping into salivial glands

Memories that remind innocence
How far time that’s yet to come
Has left them remembering why
An arrow has never remained straight
Lapping at the oceans edge

Each star, remaining a soul
Holding onto an unforgotten memory
Never understood, never accepted
Never wanted and hoped against
Battling with unending tests

I cry for this moment
For this death that whispers to all of us
Screeching to a halt in accidental disarray
I am not a cause for understanding
Victimless and harmless and misunderstood

So remind me of an arching smile
Radiating eyes and hugs that last too long
Leave me remembering what will never again be
Again, a lost answer in the back of the book
A scribbled name in hasty mischief

Tears running below my chin
Death so close I can touch it
A hurt longing for the tips of my toes
The soul hovering
As a chance of love and heartache and an unending story

Athens (day 894)

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I remember it there
A different kind of cement
Patch work
And cracks that weren’t cracks
And hand made fences of stones
Clearly crooked
But placed with utmost care
While the roads
Not the big North American style
But built for horse and cart
Slower traffic
Pequeño
While flower boxes teetered
On hooks and ledges
One hundred years old
And steep stair
That went to the top of a hill
Around a park
Upon which locals sat at night
Mingling in casual groups
Drinking in the streets
Setting off the busker’s alarm
Where on all the walls
All the buildings
All the staircases
Any last bit of exposed canvas
Was graffiti
Skulls, gas masks
Political hate
Grotesque mottos
Dreamed characters
And warm nights
I would walk down to my favorite café
Sit and talk to a cute girl
Excited I was foreign
A beautiful woman
With a foreign tongue to me
An exotic look to me
Serving me free shots of Rum
As I ate the complimentary peanuts
And commented on the quotes
Littered around the walls
I was a revolutionary with a fine perch
And the misfigured man
With an eye for a cheekbone
And a snarl for the other
Like those suspicious eyes yelled
But the kind soul he was
A political radio DJ
In a time past its prime
With an uphill walk home
And fuzzy contemplation
Past gas masks
Boys up to no good
Parked scooters
And the upstairs neighbors
Fucking all day
And especially all night
The sounds
First night there I thought
The sounds came from an alley cat
Never before
With a torrential heat
Driving any sober thoughts
Out the window
Sinking into the gay fellows bed
But the shower was nice
A clean house
A cheap house
In a beautiful city
Filled with angst
Sunk so deep
It poured out of eyelashes
It poured onto the streets
It fell out of cars
It was raised upon signs
It was marched along
It was a memory

Athens - 092012 (156 of 411)

Cracks (day 893)

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There I was with a paddle in my hand
In the middle of the city
Lookin’ for my river
Heat radiating off the dusty path
Cracks running East to West
And a nickle and dime store
Spinning hot air around
Dropping beads of sweat off exposed refreshments

Ghosts were speaking to me
Sitting there on the boardwalk
On old wooden stools
Grass tooth-pics jutting out
From unshaven scruff filled chins
The lot of them
And me with my paddle

I just stared at them
Ignoring the patient sun
Grumbling away as if mid-day hadn’t already come
I couldn’t tell
Dazed as I was
Had it already come?
I checked my six shooter
And slowly turned North
Towards the fresh BBQ smell
And the slow sweeper
Minding the cracks in the boardwalk
Lookin’ for my river

Frosty Morning Saunter (day 891)

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A motionless saunter through the cold grass leaving footsteps every bloody place that I go and picking up my feet without tying up the laces because the gloves on my hands are too warm and the air is too cold but the path ahead is shaking and quivering in unrelenting uncontrolled mastery non-mastery in spite my insistence on leaving my hands out of their pockets to fight this urge to cower and shelter from the brutal elements hoping to bridge the gap between strength and toughness without too many frost bites but this is ok because I read about it in a book that told me I should and it told me it’s valiant and it told me I can walk on coals with bare feet too because the skin between my toes is too soft and could use a good toughen up but oh my look at that large dog walking down the now covered in leaves path about to jump up on me because I treat it like a human being and acknowledge it’s existence for who in their right mind wouldn’t want to jump up on me with such an acknowledgement but you know the dog is so friggen big it’s like a young man feeding must be expensive is all I can think as my steps trace up the frozen tarmac slipping on the thin layer of ice hardly visible and highly wavering but all is good because I’m about to peak this crest and stand for a moment on the highest point and survey my kingdom for it is my kingdom for it is my kingdom for it is my kingdom that I survey due to my commitment to walk the coldest slippery path in all the woods in the mornings before the dusk has settled in and after all of the leaves have come flying down to the maker of their fate named gravity and decay and decomposition and footsteps along the singletrack path between the naked branches of thinner than I thought birch trees awaiting the bounty of springs sunshine because I’m not ready to give up on the year yet I’ve got plans to formulate and materialize and time to waste and sleep to never catch up on and a nice warm cup of coffee around noon because I’ve begun to let down my guard for certain things as I raise my guard for garbage and consumption and waste and destruction of our land this land my land my kingdom I saunter through on this cold frosty morning good morning world good morning world good morning world get up and go now take it off.