Who spoke to me today?
No silence awoke me
Echoes at the gates.
I missed the cool sun
Drop about Moon’s brow
Caress of two foreign lovers
Spoke, nevermore.
Tag: foreign
Twice Today (day 2699)
She ran away to be
Lost in another land
For there she could always get
Coffee in a little cup
The foreign men whistled
In a sweet way
That always made her blush
And in her wallet
My once dear photo
Faded away to dust
And as she ordered
Another coffee
She asked in her foreign tongue
“Have you seen
Any good plays
Any thing going on?”
To which the kind man
Smiled at her
Asked her twice her name.
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.
Moonball (day 2393)
I am a moonball chasing light beams
My lingering set me free
Orbit exposing my pathway
In a land so foreign and new
This is how I travel lightly
My mind’s story set my feather
Spotlight into pure nightness
Hear a stranger rustling
Seeing writing on the wall.
One Night (day 1612)
I spent the night camping
In my darkest of corners.
I spent two hours searching
Inside the womb of my unspent.
I spent one hour withered in darkness.
I spent four hours unable to move,
and one hour mashed
Between a forever truth
And two silver dollars
Who told me I should know how.
I spent one hour hand writing a letter
To a foreign friend I’ve never met.
And I spent three hours digging
Into this wisdom I’ve always known.
Yellow (day 1570)
Shake your hands little man
Rumble rumble rumble.
Shock proof and submerged
I’ve become a yellow alien
Lost in a foreign land.
Shake it in a glass pint of feel good yellow
Until it hurts so hard nutshell
There begins quite a rumble.
Put your guns outside now,
The blood is run down.
Bitter is the agent of change;
A sour heart upon edges of my spine.
My yellow in the midst of your confusion.
An iron, coyly, in a state of disconnect
And my flattening ceases, rumble rumble.
I hope you found the keys –
Open sitting etched wooden door.
Explanations come out
Flight from a thousand monarch butterflies
In a thousand shades of yellow.
Foreign Style (day 1323)
Its weird walking through foreign soils
When all you have are memories
Of relics flickering through your mind,
And every corner you think you know
Turns out to be an unknown alcove;
When expected signs and monuments
Are entirely unrecognized and odd.
I find myself seeing ghosts of y’or
Wandering aimlessly just as I,
Who nod to me acknowledgement
As we both carry on our way.
Then just as in a fairy tale,
I come about my senses:
I find my store, I see my pal,
And we’re off to bring the night in style.
Piles of Hay (day 1171)
Green green grass that pulled my eye
Away from studious pursuits,
Left me blinking beyond recognition
Against the mid-summer sun.
And ‘for too long I was bound
To be a gentleman farmer,
With two brown cows and a flock-o-chickens
To keep collectors at bay.
In my haste I left my pencils
Behind the ol’wrecked galley,
Which held my plans of adventure and folly
Through lands of foreign accents.
As Big Ben – punctual suitor a-high –
Chimed my daily ritual no more,
I whisked away the piles of hay
To woo my mid-summer sun.
She laughed at me upon her stoop
With joy only innocence can bring.
Though my knee, dusty it be
Was scraped in childhood folly,
Look here my man, in my hand
I’ve a sun and it’s even more fun.
Foreign Washroom (day 957)
Silently awaiting noises
To hear if my noises
Are also heard noises
Borders (day 455)
These foreign cities that circle the boundaries of my belief
Let me understand how modern we are
How even across the world we can share some stories
And come out connected like two siblings by birth
It’s beautiful how a language can break down these ancient city walls
Berlin wasn’t separated long, just a small pox
Still, people have their borders strong in their mind
They transcend all lands with mental images
They live in thunder and lightening storms
Brewed for something that is just different
Boundless with their arrogance as they strut some more
Limited in their beauty as they walk home alone
Cars that whistle as they pass on by
Cats screeching as they flip up their tail
Prayer echoing in the late hours of the night
Bells that call to you in harmony
And all for the death of a poet
A man who never cried out in vain