Apathy ranked high
In a list of long morals
That ruled the Big Speak’s ritualistic world
Visions confused as actions
Daylight confused as laughter
Dogs barking at parked cars
That swam away in a sea of surfboards.
The mothers cried
But held their tongue
For their culture had been shifted
Into bravery, brutish endurance
Ending in self-righteousness
So tightened by affirmations
Conflicting with daylight savings
While observing from a park bench.
But don’t tell lonely
For the Big Speak’s confused
That rhetoric means engagement
And slaughter means community.
Tag: park
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.
Bangkok (day 2340)
Here I watched the scooters fly
With an ilk of serene
Cursing through my softening veins
Incensed by the tropical glow
Of a soft wind.
A dog, likely stray
Rolled
Seeking nothing
Knowing no restriction
Just a search
In a lazy haze
Concrete park.
A soft bell blowing in the wind
Caused an easy glance
To float upon the day
A memory
Coming in and going out
Leaving traces upon my brow
In a heated moment.
There will be a day
Soon
Where I do not wish
Do not send
Just let and smile
No restrictions
A waltz.
The city hums
A oneness
Slowly connected
In a respectful flow
A common thought
And yeild
That is constantly tested
By foreigners
Who are never home.
Days Roll By (day 1829)
When you hang around here
I roll in second gear
Not pushing too fast
Caught in the wind
Days roll by
Into weeks and miles
When your hanging ’round
Baby, let’s roll around
And my parking brake
Is the great escape
City lights and the vista
With music on easy beats
Be My Lover (day 1805)
Why can’t you be my lover?
Why cant skies call us
Hand in hand
On a lazy Sunday
From beneath checkered sheets
And last nights crumbs?
Why can’t your body tangle
Wrap the heart of my smile
So tightly in a slow gaze kind of way?
Why can’t a sidewalk be
Our waltz through a park
Hand in hand and stopping
To watch two swans bathe themselves?
Why can’t our tub be lit by candles
With a glass of wine to share
From a lazy notebook dream
On a midnight kind of Saturday?
Why can’t our every day
Hold our dreams just so,
Where routine is charming and light
And the tips of your fingers
Remind me of the frost on morning’s flowers?
Why can’t we share memories,
In a caravan of love?
Trip to the Park (day 1537)
My windows slidescape at a furious pace
As little sentinels wave from overlooked nooks.
I’m a road warrior when the times get hard
But this is summer now, and these long backs
And bikini tracks are keeping me easy
With two shades of cool running down the side of
A sweating growler called picnic in the park.
I’m laying naked in her presence,
She’s entangling my mind as her long legs
Reach straight up at mine.
We biked here because our history depends on it,
So tempered with that, we find it irresistible
To not heed the folly in pushing sweet Gaia away,
Which, to those of us who mind the traffic,
Becomes about as obsolete as this empty bottle of summer.
Mind Walks (day 1342)
Losing purpose of the mind
Inside contradicting thoughts
That flicker between yesterday
And a whole lot of dreams
Makes breathing increasingly harder,
Motivation a stubborn horse,
And walks through the park
Increasingly longer.
Of A Time (day 1259)
Remind me of a time
I have always dreamt to be.
Of snowflakes
And hot chocolate, and
Giant balloons in the sky.
And wisdom I’ve learnt of
In dusty wooden books –
Backwards to frontwards
With marvelous hooks.
Lost in the park,
In the middle of a rainstorm,
In the middle of your heart,
With crackers and cheese,
And a bottle that’s real dark.
Remind me of a time
Ol’ Ginter’s Ruins (day 737)
There’s a lady I walk by-the-by
She drags her feet like
With hair out wide
She’s got an old black lab
That huffs and puffs
Up ol’ Ginter’s Hill
She ain’t much of a hill
But the ruins at the top
Make a nice place to stop
For a break and a view
Let my mind sit and stew
Upon the brick walls that remain
In front of ol’ Ginter’s ruins
Lays a meadow and a copse
Brooding in green
With a gurgling stream
Which I roam up and down
Day in and day out
Some days I go up
Above ol’ Ginter’s ruins
There’s a well up there
At the end of the trail
Along the gurgling stream
Where I listen to the wild
There are two paths
From ol’ Ginter’s hill
To the house where I stay
One weaves through the woods
The other: a wide rocky path
I always go through the woods
Summer Fun (day 708)
Today’s a new day
Birds on my way
Around in the park
Amidst old fallen bark
I walk for my health
Native American stealth
Dipping and dashing
Jumping and splashing
Warm weather’s blowing
Gone is the snowing
Green shoots are showing
Life begins glowing
Where naked the trees
In cool winter’s breeze
Soon shall be covered
Green nature’s sheltered
Yellow shifts away
Natural aging and decay
Spring change has begun
Anticipate summer fun!