Posts tagged ‘pink floyd’

November 22, 2014

Comely Civilian

Sipping hot Chai Tea,
When bitter came sweet.
Numbers change degrees,
Perspective saw discreet.

Early time of day,
We met along the way.
Present here now sit,
A life made of odd bits.

Notice slight turn of head
Sparking bulbs in the mind;
Wait, watch, and reflect,
Faint to smell of Dandelion.

Supple as shone flesh,
One acknowledges dewed must,
Affective thoughts to pass,
Words spoke, open mouth trust.

Salacious centerfold,
Touching each endpoint nerve,
Appointing minor tasks-
Let eager subjects be served.

Sit perked straight up,
Lace bound tight round back;
Pictures opened doors,
Imagined forms one retracts.

That fiend- the mind, moves fancy to bust.
That fiend- the thought: human nature of lust.

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March 21, 2014

Conscious Continued

On the State Level:

What is Freedom without Oppression?

 

Sunday liquor sales we don’t mention

Exclusive capital through resource retention

Taking the environment without apprehension

Marijuana is off the books because opiates pay pensions

 

Then we walk with hanging heads

Then we eat what we’ve been fed.

***

Paper collection friendships

Corporations part of a faceless community

But they have our president’s holy graces*

Existence thriving in high places so astutely

 

Their tree bearing tainted fruit

That is only being eaten by the ignorant and aloof.

 

***

As I am:

 

Taking the bus to work

Wearing same dirty old shirt

While not putting on airs

Not pretending unawares

 

Liars hold more account on the politician’s ear

Forsaken bent sinewy grotesque and clear, yet standing tall they still appear.

 

***

The trains roll through the station

But my Amtrak is late

Here’s to frack mines devastation

The passengers will wait

 

This one has been delayed

On to better days

Money rolls in, they can’t differentiate

But we must remain

 

Priorities not for minorities

A lesson in disgrace

Haven’t read the history

But what’s important before today’s date?

 

One could tell a story

And call it reality too

One could fly a sign

In hopes of attaining food

 

Desk sit forty hours

No wonder why I’m rude

Don’t count the flowers

Straighten up that rebellious attitude

 

That’s all.

 

This is local-

They appear global-

 

What about America?

What about global hysteria?

 

*Currency

December 29, 2012

My Day In Comparison (Circa 1984)

“I go to her breast like bees to a sweet flower.”  -OTS

 

Of waking in such a world:

 

Eyes dark to the element of night.

Avoiding aversion, focused assertion:

I have to do this.

 

Alerted companion, shield your gaze.

This hour will not see you wake:

Sleep beacons and pulls you back.

 

A kiss goodnight again; what we do before bed.

Kiss on the lips.

 

Morning, noon, and night, it doesn’t matter…

Like prayer, but better.

 

She was wet with excitement, I was hard to conceal.

 

Few words to discuss.

What is the meaning?

 

Love or lust?

Is this real?

 

Bike to work; quaint, quiet, alone, thoughts of others.

My Day In Comparison.

 

Who cares?  I am not everyone else, am I?

I miss love like I would miss oxygen too, just like you:

 

Held under water to die-when you are gone, begging you to come my way, to come my way and stay.  Forever long.

 

And I wake with another…

Beep, beep, beep.

Another day to stumble through, thoughts of you.

 

And the sound of a hand slapping plastic is echoed through the sheets.

No damage is done, I pull the blankets over her face and leave.

 

***

I think…

My mother always told me to watch out for Number One.

December 22, 2012

Winter Solstice

A semblance of light as seen in the dark, amid transport, a mere spark; washboard streets littered with ice and snow, touched slightly by brown matter, illuminated by waxy yellow bulbs which hang above, and the semi shown moon, shaded frequent by cloud mass.

(Life is a class, an education, always learning something new.)

Your doubts are about you, your mind wonders to something true.

Traveling is innate and thoughtless.

Time travel is priceless.

A punctual prospect.

Darkness seems darkest before the shortest day of annual; winter depression has just set in, and already, it has worn out its welcome.

Depression is subjective.

Who can object?

I doubt them.

The loved ones are gone, here for a moment, then away again in the next.

We have fought, we have thought, we have cherished the moments we have lost, and then our mind is flexed.

Vexed.

We do what is best, we do nothing.

We stretch out waiting patiently for the rest, then we subject ourselves to something.

The seasons.

A destination is met.

I look outside once more before I shut the door on a winter’s day.

What have I to forget?