Frosty Morning Saunter (day 891)

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.

Where By Now (day 890)

I am loosing my way, path
My sight and vision that has drawn me
That has layered my soul
To be unraveled
Alone, confused
Clouded in a misguided belief
Loaned out to the public
Really, truthfully
Abandoned
Shifted like last season
Disregarded
Where by now
Amidst my centered thought
I have no more whole
And while lost along the way
I have imagined I
Am
Whole
To be purely mistaken
As if a premature frost
Escaping the night

It’s a Struggle (day 833)

The soul of a man was never here
There was never a judgement day
The seas never parted for sanctity
No dove soared over these skies

There was no path along the way
No dotted map mapped out
The road was never straight
And the going was never easy

I was never taught vowels to speak
Never held to stop the fall
My cuts were never cleaned
No wounds have ever healed

No grapes have ever grown here
The sky has never rained
Carrots have always stunted
No fruit truck ever stopped

There has never been love here
No kind touch from a woman’s hand
No laughter has ever sung here
No peace has ever been found

Sweet Battle (day 785)

I had a dream last night
I dreamed that my path
Was paved with gold
Overhanging branches
And lush bushes
Had been all trimmed back
My shins no longer scraped
Against the stinging nettle
My ankles no longer rubbed
Over zealous bushes
The twigs and decaying leaves
Had all be scraped away
Leaving me a path devoid
Of all natures beautiful wiles
Maybe it was a nightmare
Shocking me to become aware
Of our battle against
Sweet Mother Earth

2013.05.09 - Prince George Spring (58 of 100)

Where the Wild Buttercups Grow (day 723)

Have you ever been where the wild buttercup grows?
Up past the fence where the cattle don’t go
There’s an oak tree there sheltering a patch
Of clovers so thick, of ground so cool

I don’t go back there often since I’ve moved away
The house has changed now, green house is blue
But when I do go up to where the buttercups grow
An overgrown path where the big old oak stays

I remember in ’24 Mary-Lou and I walked
Up to the meadow where the buttercups grow
We sat on the sunny side of the old oak tree
Upon the checkered blanket we brought with the wine

But lovers they come and some of them go
And the buttercups always continue to grow
Up in the meadow where the wild oak grows
Past the old fence where the cows don’t go

History Sleeps (day 688)

And your swords
Heel’t by the pressures of oath
Forcing thought from mind
Into duty, sworn and bred

~

It is here where deceit grows
Amongst the cobwebs of freedom
Faith of the free
Growing dissonance

~

But straightened backs
And freshly pressed regalia
Adorned with pride and service
Calm thy boiling blood

~

Hindered with loathe
Confidants biding their time
In halls of betrayal
Seething with ego

Unnatural betrayal hidden
Behind blind eyes of service
Suckling the easy tit of
Mephistopheles

~

While memories float frequently
Between graying hairs
And balding victories
Scavenging the lands of truth

Relying on honor
A choice and a path
Not a reason or calling
But inward honesty

~

Though demons fight unceasingly
Through hushed dark corridors
Escape routes of the squeamish
Icicles of setting winter

~

Until the end remains clear
Ancient avenues of chestnut trees
Above the family crypt
History sleeps as change begins

Slowly Melting Away (day 684)

On my better days
I get up before light
Put on my trusty runners
And head out to the path
Where my dog and I
Dodge frozen twigs and poop
Nimbly dancing along
Snow covered trails
Slowly melting away
Causing the walk to be
More like a slide
Through slush

On my better days
I get out of bed
Ignoring the softness
Deep within the sheets
I ignore the pillows
That drown me in comfort
And the warm pocket
I’ve been heating all night
Testing first with my hands
Then my timid feet
Touch the ground

On my better days
This is truth
Though, today was harder

Disappointed Consequences (day 661)

You see, this romance was impossible
Your disappointed heart and its wings
Never dropped off for a visit
Bonded efforts with another mind
Aligned with another motion

Intentions tricked consequences
Answers: full of lies
Convenience was never easy
Until the day you took flight
Sailing with eagles and wooden paddles

How careless of me to not feel this
To not listen to the words spread out
Motionless in the sea of thought
Dormant as space flicked between us
And eyes gathered around little baskets

Did you feel it?
I’ve walked without sandals before
The path worn so
Let’s not play make believe
Gather the picnic, we’re heading home