Hands On My Temple

Breadmould on my stale slice of bread This was my lunch left for dinner gone bad I’m attempting to write about someone else’s circumstance In who’s world this is true - forgive my pretence I cannot divorce my thoughts from worry The burden of my heritage I must carry I drive across sewage on my way to work I splash it with my tyres where people walk I take the freeway ‘cos I hate being stuck in traffic There was an accident – I'm gonna be late - someone died, terrific?! This reality is growing hungry as the world grows Angry and less carrying for each other, who knows? I brood about my arrogance and question my origins To justify my brutality at someone’s demise I had a long day – being murdered on the phone I need to regulate my stress like a dog needs a bone My face looks up to face my reflection – my frustrations! I need relaxation - I start to pen – my meditation :-) I hold my head - hands on my temple Trying to resemble the meaning of being humble