I do not know?
From bright colors even the brightest blond turns grey.
Grown men now stand.
Were once young children did play.
The once new cover.
Is now tattered and torn.
time has all but erased the oaths once proud men had sworn.
The field now overgrown still haunts memories of the blue and grey.
Old worn headstones markers of were they'll forever lay.
No bell to ring no voice shall call.
The ghosts of the past erased by spring summer and fall.
The old porch stands hidden by a overgrowth of vines.
Now blank are the boards that once were painted signs.
The blood followed swiftly from the wound of the past.
To forge a path to a time that could never last.
Gone is the tree that once stood so very tall.
Forgotten by time
So is the legend of spring summer and fall.
Everyone should have a secret place
where everything is so beautiful, you just belong
as peaceful as a day is long, an out of your usual pace,
sounds of nature all about, where birds sing there song,
Meditation replaces frustration, along your happy trail
moving about streams, pine trees as tall as a waterfall
where pine cones grace a foliage landscape so surreal,
woes are meaningless about green grass, lollypop bushes
A cool spring where skinny dipping hasn’t a sign to obey
trails going every which way, too choose, you can’t lose…
your way, this sunny day, misty spray, a couple out to play,
no weight to bare, deadlines to meet, nor fail too win
time only absent from laughter heard as children frolic there...
in a caressing manner, with her long hair draped about your face,
sounds echo off boulders where water flows by gallons everywhere
yes - your secret place, where good time memories are your true nature
Summer hath come, May blocked the sun, son, yet I know you read this Jedi
Airwaves reek of radiation, reverberation stagnant holds no key.
Here we, hear yee, Kings of Alchemy
everyday, every way, mopping floors like janitors, scientists of style, fluidity.
Yet, have you ever seen "Good Will Hunting?" "How do ya' like 'dem apples!?!"
Faces fraught with pale, we do not understand or yet fully comprehend what it
is being accomplished here.
Still, week after week, we build this small community of ambition through
attrition. We pour out our souls...FOR WHAT? Bickering in this pan, flash
flooding through months supposedly in a drought. But, FOR WHAT"S IT ALL
ABOUT. (or Aboot, for my Canadian brother's and sisters)
I give thanks for your interaction, but will not accept judgment of the few. In
fact, purists, I will address you too, by flying high my middle finger, resisting
the itch to even edit this "worthless excuse for a poem". But I know better
than to pester you much more than that. For I too, need readers, and you're
dropping like flies in protest. Still I say: "You're pissed off, it sure beats
getting pissed on!" Perhaps the world really fades to black when everyone
stops talking of you.
There is not much I believe in firmly as the Universe/Multiverse is a million
white canvases. But I, and I do mean butt-eye believe we are waking up. My
duty involves elimination of the snooze button. If wishes were coffee, I'd stir
the world hot, and see that cups overflow with pure energy. The black veil
over our many nations needs lifted, and it's gonna take full concentration,
positive motivation, and quite possibly myriads meditating.
Amen brothers and sisters!
If this piece doesn't resonate, I recommend one week off from television and
or video games to improve clarity. Light becomes clear when dimming what's
dumbing you down.
You look up to the sky.
It is a normal summer day like any other.
Sparse clouds line the sky and the sun beats down on you.
Except this is no ordinary summer day.
This is the day you ship out.
You have said your good byes and cried with your lovers.
The weight of your country rests upon your shoulders.
It beats down on you much like the sun.
It burns you if you are not properly prepared,
much like the sun.
Much like the sun you are depended on by all that you known.
Depended on by your country.
Much like the sun,
you fade away into the night appearing in a different country
The Outer Island
Small Island in a summer lake
And on a day of play
Young people were slaughtered by
A madman posing as normal.
Another summer the island is
Full of wild flowers
A requiem for those left behind.
I remember the day I first saw her face on the school bus such an uneasy place
we both were shy it took months just to talk soon enough we would always walk
from the stop to her house were I d stand uneasy the sweat would pool in my right hand
One night late after school she came to my house I tried to be cool
she asked if I would like to go out of course I did but I was nervous anxious filled with doubt
we spent a whole summer just hanging out some times I got so nervous I wanted to shout
I recall how she first placed her hand in mine I was sweating so bad I was losing my mind
the touch of her fingers in my sweaty palm gave comfort unknown and a relieving calm
I realize now she was just as scared but she seemed so calm ready and aware
she became my very best friend but even I knew the summer would end
before the fall came an took her away we spent time with each other everyday
a few weeks before school started again we went to the park are spot back then
she looked in my eyes for ever it seemed I was confused and young I almost screamed
then she leaned towards me with the sweetest touch she said shed miss me very much
and then it happen her lips searched and found mine out in that moment it removed all doubt
an innocent peek between dearest of friends learning how such things have there ends
after school started that year she moved away I have not seen her since that day
Forever she holds a piece of my heart the innocents we shared was ours from the start
even tho Ive grown a lot since then that young love is for thick and thru thin
we never took not a thing from one another we held each other up learned from one another
I wonder if she thinks of me I think of her and lonely nights I hope she lives happily
youth is something you cannot keep I miss those days on the grass we would sleep
somewhere inside the shy little boy waits for the day he might see that girl once again
the soul that taught me how to love and to be loved how to end and how to begin
I know ill never see her again I know its only memories something lost to the past
if I would have known it would end that way and be over so quick so dam fast
I would have told her more of the true me maybe then Id feel whole at last
sweet first love I hope you find a life of love and find your faith in the god above
she will always been in my heart and mind and for now we must leave us behind
tome in this orkney beachstead
Warm in the touch of rotting tip heat
splitskinning addies onto top cook rock
smart eyes closed to stinking smoke
feet still wet from tidepool trapsets
Wondering when will weather break
tothers snore beneath the cook smoke
eagle dreams of summer soarings
when will I earn my right to salt
the cook rock's sate with addies left
splitem and fishwall the fire
t' gae doon sweet in morn
the gut sack's full to bait the pool
time t'wash and dream and drool
at home in this Orkney beach stead
warmed by composting garbage and buried green cut grasses
cleaning fish to smoke
feet wet from tending tidal pool traps
wondering when the storm will end
while the rest sleep in the clearer below smoke
dreaming of summer eagles
looking to gain tribe rights
the flat hot rock above the fire is full
gut the remainder and stack them
to cook around the fire
to taste good in the morning
the grass wove rock sack is full of guts
to rebait the pool trap
it's time to wash and dream of breakfast