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Tony Wallin Poem
Cosmic connections arise
out of burnt city's of ash
Death n' Turmoil chaos transforms
into impermeated order
In house seventeen
friendship formed
from life murderers
Loving kindness has bound
like a roaring caboose train
Streaming steams of the night
Between the trio of different worlds
landing on the same dimensional plane
heart
mind
spirt, parallel
no longer perpendicular
Copyright © Tony Wallin | Year Posted 2015
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Details |
Tony Wallin Poem
The box car is full of noise
white and black owls hoo-ing in the night
midnight almost here
Dice being slammed
fifteen!fifteen!
College yuppies talkin' loud
too loud for my ears
Flocks of good looking gals
of all ages, golden blonde hair
Big wide eyes transparent
to anyone different, ignorance
is not Bliss!
Not in this case
too many peeople boarded
in the desert
There goes John Dillinger
with a bride and fire of flames
The cowboy sits quite
across the table
of liquid toxicity
and coffee grounds
Look into the pocket
new pair of seein' specs
Great Luck!
Observin' the crowd
in this box car ramblin'
from afar, yet sittin'
a foot away
A ghost among the fog
restless
in the heated square
of America, fall
fall America!
America Rise
Rise! Rise!
Copyright © Tony Wallin | Year Posted 2015
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Details |
Tony Wallin Poem
i caught eyes with the man on the streets
cracked weathered hands
beating upon the newspaper racks
to no tune except for the symphony in his head
he is lost from the looks of the external
but internally he is calm and relaxed
the headphones that he wears play no sound
only replaying voices and memories from another time
something his mind is able to travel
he people gazes and rests upon the press democrat box
with style
we catch eyes once again
i have known this man before
i have met him, but where and how
most importantly why have i met him
maybe upon the train track yards or saloons
around the dusty american dreamed towns
desolate and forbidding to the common folk
i have come across this street dwelling man before
perhaps another life time
either past or future
i have a common memory of this poor soul
a soul with a heart taht shines big wide eyes
eyes that scream please help or talk to me
but all the hip santa rosan residents
with there fad hair cuts and uncomfortable looking walks
each step they take looks painful to the gut
they all fly by with no care or even a wince
as if he doesn't exist in their world
we catch eyes once more
i know this man
my eyes watrer up with tears
i have put a pause on my american dreamed adventures
i went too far down the road
i was succombed by the uglyside of rambling
and life and death gambling
this man and i perhaps onced played as children
running in a field with no cares
laughing as the prairer dog free among the praires
it is possible i saved his life
it is more probable he saved mine
somewhere down the road someday
where the dust never settles in arm reach
and the clearest visible sight
is only what you can dream
Copyright © Tony Wallin | Year Posted 2015
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Details |
Tony Wallin Poem
Three buses and a train ride
everyday to get dosed
Through empty parking lots and rotting flesh
behind back alleys and littered shelters
Further down desolated rows
of abondoned carnival cities
made of tents and hand woven blankets
broken dreams and lost aspirations
fill the air as smoking rising through a chimney
with in the house on the east side of town
unable to afford heat or electricity
i fell asleep subconsciously
dropping the cigarette from my lips
burning the matress below
setting a fire ablaze
that was my heart form the night before
where some unknown named woman slept
beside me
forgetting any memory i was not alone
i proceeded jumping like jack flash as i ran
i ran to the nearest highway entrance
threw out my thumb and kissed the wind
Copyright © Tony Wallin | Year Posted 2015
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