Growth vs. Growth (day 3145)

For what used to be technology
– Figments of built up society –
Has fallen down,
By our own will
Freedom seems such a funny phrase.

But then to look
Upon the birds
Returning from the South,
Weaving and spinning
Joyeous beginning
Of Spring is in the air.

All could change
All can change
Of our built up digital world:
Roads and electric poles,
City sidewalks set ablaze,
Consumption tracks
Buried deep
In plastic bags we reap.

But then to look
Just look at the greening abound!
See the buds popping
See grass growing
Watch as Sun warms the earth.

Broken Arrow Peddler (day 3139)

Ten shades of a broken arrow
Stretched across the sky
Moon and sun both couldn’t hide
So they raged, no dawn, no dusk.

A peddler man came walking down
In a suit quite unknown in that world,
Had two tones of gravity
Two handfuls of pure dirt.

In each promise the hook was set
Deeper and deeper it took
Just like moon and sun,
They raged, they raged, they raged.

The end became, the gone be gone
The rules left written down
Nailed to a city square post
Discarded cloth and plastic close by.

The moon became calm and laid away
A soft silver spoon for a tomorrow,
The sun, alert, smiled peacefully
And awoke children so sewn.

Ode To My Favourite Pen (day 3067)

I found you down a darkened road
Construction and rainy smells
Inside an old historic building
In to what felt like a historic store.
The walls were lined
With countless pens
And items supporting pens,
All illuminated so eloquently
Showcasing the finest specimens
Any penman could want.
In here I walked back and forth,
And fellow patrons wandered deep in thought,
Where finally in the deepest corner
I found you resting on a stand
Not a fingerprint laid your barrel.

And now so many years have passed
Yet not once have you let me down
Though the world we’ve traveled by foot
No wear shows upon your barrel,
Your nib a perfect flow.
And your mark has been inscribed
On countless pads sent afar
With, what I believe, quite an exquisite touch
Unique to me, my penman mark
You so critically help me lay.
I look and hold you every day,
Proud to know you by feel and weight
To have you by my side,
And to know that when I need you most
You’ll be right where I lay you down
Ready with your perfect balance
Upon paper we do play.

Dreamer (day 3064)

I am a late night dreamer.
I walk the streets
With parallel universes
On repeat amidst my thoughts,
So that each turn I make
Runs parallel to my intentions
On a highway of bright lights
Though sun has long been down.
Yet I roam here
With eyes baked in sugar
That envision it all,
Right down to the first footsteps
That I know very well
Will wake me up tomorrow.
I roam here so that I can awake
With a mind full of race horses
Excited in a freshly opened pasture
Of my tomorrow which I am now
In tonight as a late night dreamer.

Trodden (day 3012)

What have I lost here?
I see snow laid down
Tufts of grass escaping
But blowing madly, violently.
Moments ago it felt complete
As sun’s low and golden hues
Touched my trodden face.
Closed in by enemies
I had forgot to invite
The game of envy inside
Had I known the weather
Would be beating down so low.

Hill (day 2951)

And so I came to the hill
Wrapped in all things
Left here to dry, to weep and cry
To spell out long letters
To those last glimpses of my truth
Who have left the last marks
Ravaging the little beasts
Smoking atop the hill so crested.
And then it began to drip down
Along the side of my being
Gooey globs of scent infused
Suffering that made me stop,
Gaze uncontrollably
At the giant drops of passion,
And remember how far
I still have to go
For I think I have a hill to climb.

Shut Down (day 2929)

It is hard to know
When to shut down,
When to turn away
From this machine.
One becomes
All consumed,
All stuck on the tool.
But then,
At long last,
A little inkling
Draws one on away,
Like warming of a fire
To take to rest
To take to work
To take the mind
To physical
And find what has been lost
Out on the ground
Nature’s finest mess
A bivy full of uncharted.

Dogs (day 2928)

I’m going to crawl out sideways
Like I’m carrying a hard edge
My rhythms backbit the scene
So I was ongoing madness descended
No matter the words that I spoke
Two syllables released my mouth
Gravelling and loosening
With a steel shovel reminding me
That a cold soup is awaiting my return
And a method of grandeur
Has gone forbidden and exhausted
And dormant as dogs fall down.