It’s bewildering how all the
Little kids are dressed in green.
They’re wearing foreign flags and
Scrambling about in some kind of
Scatterbug formation.
It makes me think of the years I spent in ‘Nam.
– And coincidentally a delicious restaurant
Round the corner from here.
Chopsticks between eyes and arrows
And fabrics that tell me not to bring these new habits home.
I’m watching them with curiosity, the kids,
As they make their way about the grounds
Busier than all the ants of the world.
Hands flailing in some random forms of symmetry
That builds to an ecstatic culminations of sorts.
And then I get busy and pants with arrows pointing South
Cross my paths leaving home-job manicured
French poodles pissing about,
Confusing the tiny combat warriors.
Tag: habits
Green and Busy (day 1218)
Little kids are all dressed in green.
They’re wearing foreign flags and
Scrambling about in some kind of
Scatterbug formation.
It makes me think of the years I spent in ‘Nam
– And incidentally a delicious restaurant
Round the corner from here.
Chopsticks between eyes and arrows
And fabrics that tell me not to bring these new habits home.
I’m watching them with curiosity
As they make their way about the grounds
Busier than all the ants of the world.
Hands flailing in some random forms of symmetry
That builds to eruptic culminations.
And then I get busy and pants with arrows pointing South
Cross my paths leaving home-job manicured
French poodles pissing about,
Confusing the tiny combat warriors.
Opal Skin (day 944)
A tear filled with happiness
Streaks opal skin of tenderness
With lines of emotionalism
Holding onto memories
That are shifting into habits
If Roads Began To Wind (day 646)
If words like these did sting your ears
If flowers no longer blossomed in your eyes
If roads began to wind for you
Forever may those distrust in me
If I spoilt the love I have today
For a love I won’t have tomorrow
Then let a darkness be the bearer
Of steps I do declare
If my virtues contrast my ways
If my habits exceed my grace
Then let my name ring out in laughter
As a man who toiled his life in vain
If a blade took my life tonight
The ice pulling down my being
If an end does finally come of it
And sets my soul to float away
Which pierces through your heart in pain
Then let your suffering be felt by me
What my dying breath shall whisk away
Floating (day 432)
I keep floating between that which I know
And that which eludes me in times of need
I keep on guessing at habits which I know
A game meant for madmen and the self-conscious
One at which I heed not the cautions of
And plunge headlong in: full of heart
Ignoring the darkness looming ahead
Anticipating the rocky ledges that mark the path
Catching me at most of the corners
Scraping my knees as I tumble forth
Then again, I find myself afloat
Wandering in this listless dream