In the middle of the road
I sat cross legged
Unafraid
Yet
cognizant of everything
The
map has gone astray
Somehow we met in the middle and swiveled and turned
Back to old familiar things of new and old
New and old
New and old
New and old
As I sat there a grand silence befell me
Cars whizzed and wooed by so fast my ears could have been
ripped off
Nothing came of the sitting
So I leap to walking moving shaking across the front lawn at
full moon in the day light
That said fuck you
No one cared
A kind of phase I am going through
They would say as they plotted and schemed for
indoctrination
A cult like thing family is
With the togetherness and fake kindness and religion…Oh
religion
What a fools horse hitching people do
From Bogota to Peru and Brazil to Israel
The mind boggling things they do
I left that bag of tricks the jokster peddles
Inside that bag he would reach and time and time again
failure beseech him on to me
Gone from the road a man sees things needing seeing and I need
to see them
The hopelessness and debauchery all whores
For attention
For intimacy for money
What a bad group they are
Whores for money will do anything
I see the devil in the south on the road and he wears
sandals in Florida
High heels in Georgia
Boots in Alabama
Every day he showed his face and I snarled and gnarled at
him shooed him away
Only for him to be back again tomorrow and the next day
I think it is in the air here
That American scent and ugly face
Petty
Greedy
Reckless things not meant long for this world
What do I see upon my arrival back home nothing but the same
Like time paused and played back when I came back
So
I sit
Cross
legged in the road
Thinking
to see
What
will come
No comments:
Post a Comment