Bovine Squeals (day 2815)

As molten streets
Circumnavigated
Each island:
Utopia,
Madness circled
Each callused leader
Shaking fists
With Sir Devil.
Groans and
Bovine squeals
Inspired construction workers
To a fury,
That led each
Minister
To a foghorn;
Cattle afraid
On auction day.
Without much notice
Neither alarm
Necks were bled and drained
Swept away
Into a drain
Flushed away with rain.
And then began
– Recycled plan
Nothing new,
No change, all the same
Nothing to excite
Not a note to cause alarm –
Monotony
So deafening
Each victim
Just ceased
In plain.

What Happened To Us (day 1355)

“What happened to us?” we used to say.
Now we just roll our eyes at passing strangers
Doing strange things.

Now we just wave our flag and sip lemonade
While we wait for our favorite 6PM
Radio show to keep at our time.
What happened is we became victims willingly,
We accepted our lonely road
With righteousness.
We held our heads high and believed in a constitution
That was created and sworn upon in vain, in contempt, in disbelief,
Yet all of these cowardly apparitions
And beautiful speakers continued to wow our humble thoughts into thinking
It was all peachy.
It was ordinary.
We fought the ordinary and they learned to tell us it was remarkable.
We fought the remarkable
And they told us it was right.
So we changed channels but drank the same milk –
We never did find that girl,
But we did learn to cool the voice of reason
With fireworks and birthday parties
Because we deserved them.
We were hard workers and deserved our fruits.
We were hard workers and we accepted our lonely road,
But fought it believing what we’d been sold.

Sometimes I gaze into her eyes at night. She whispers words I’ve never heard before,
And we count backwards from our chairs
Until we reach a new paragraph in our romance novels,
And soon it’s time for tea.

Acceptance (day 903)

I am not the victim
Left hopeless in a pool of filth and inert shame
Wrong-doing receiver
Sad story and bitter ending

I am not the sufferer
Helplessly alone
Victim of circumstance
Aimless desires

I am not the casual
Random associations
Uninterestingly passive
Head down and walking

I am not the sober
Outcast
Big eyes and wide mouth
Annoyed

I am not yesterday
A lost wish
Crimson sunset
Or memories

I am acceptance

Athens - 092012 (36 of 411)

No Direction Known (day 797)

I am a victim of a cry
I am saddened no desire
Your denial of pleasure
Of finer things in life
Another way

I am a truth without a cause
A burning candle without a wick
When things explode
I am the hole
Absent of memory

I am a lesson never learnt
Beaten into fibrous lush
Browned and featureless
Lost and empty
Homeless

I am the midnight street walking
A single fluorescent light aglow
Long shadows down the road
And no finger prints
Left outdoors

I am not your golden rule
Your constant stream of pleasure
Lollygagging in suns warmth
Straight and narrow
There is no direction known

CaribooHillSnowDay - 20120116 (15 of 22)

Guilty Plea (day 748)

At once there was a gathering of heroes
Soldiers of duty that swore to their master
Guardians of public safety, truth and honor

I, turning round and around
Trapped like a target
Scared like a victim

No it wasn’t a champions bargain alone in the middle
I was the coward; in the game just a pawn
Scrambling for words in desperate desire

In the words of desire I had pulled the trigger
Attempting to alter my position
Captured by the air I inhale, I was gambling

But my hair was not so light
Held up there to scare
I was an example of a rebel to society

Waiting, Awaiting (day 715)

It’s ok if you sit there
Silently waiting for an answer
I won’t say anything to break
What serenity you seem to have
For if I were to make you
A victim of my retort
I fear I would then turn you
Against your finest consort
And that, much to my disliking
Would cause me quite some trouble
Since it’s clear it’s me to blame
For this new tragedy at hand
I feel if I were to speak now
It’d be me head on a stake
So I will sit here smug like
While you quizzically
Throw me glances
And carry on habitually
Awaiting another encounter

Lonely Visitor (day 247)

The day was washed out like a long lost romantic getaway
Open doors and dust settling on all the watermarked wooden desks
Somewhere, deep inside the cave lurks a spider
Ready to catch it’s next unsuspecting victim within it’s web
But, the lonely traveler, spooked by the dampness
Slowly backs out and heads another way
The lonely visitor will come another day