Early morning drive

The moon no longer exists,

And the sun insists it shouldn’t either.

But the sun is a heavy breather

The smell of its morning breath

The smell of the moons premature death

Wakes us from out our slumber

Under which we could see

What has yet to be.

Our dreams have died

And none of the actors cried.

They did not know

They had no time.

They’re lost forever in sea of synapses of the mind.

The characters might appear again,

But to what end?

I guess it matters not,

They end so quickly they will soon be forgot.

During the days

The suns harsh rays

Conveys it’s sad reality.

Life is hard, brutal and uncaring.

It’s eyes are constantly staring.

Staring with malice and contempt.

No on is exempt.

No one can escape it's wrath

As we all must walk the same dreary path.

The moon is of a different sort.

A retort to the suns façade.

It cries with us.

Not compelled to seem tough.

It knows how the days are rough.

It’s sympathy are clearly shown.

A face in constant groan.

Eye’s open but vacant are all that’s shown.

It too had a hard day

And dare I say

It’s of a kinder lot.

That lets us dream of what we’ve not.

Dreams we so sorely need

To get us through the days at hand.

I'll get it right some day.

Echang

Gechan

Ngecha

Angech

Hangec

Change

Edited Words

Ahh!!!
we sigh or cry.
But why?
Is it because there should be a strain
Created and continued through mundane conversations that flow through our brain?
That should have made us feel a sort of dull pain?
Something too hard to explain?
Something that we've come to expect?
Like the feeling of a headache over and over again that we try to neglect?....
Instinctively....
It's not hard to sustain.
Easier to follow than the grains of time-
Easier to keep than a good frame of mind.
And mind you.......
This can be hard to find and feel
Like swallowing shards of glass
As they pass through your mouth.
Or .....
As they go south....
When they come in.
......
They may hurt.
Sometimes from their beauty,
Others.....
from their sadness.
But they make us-
Comfort us-
Bless us-
And condemn us.
They mean no real harm.
It's not their fault,
The order in which they are arranged-
Is the blame.....
Of those that speak it.
..........
Continue talking-
walking with your words.
Falling on deaf ears that may have never really heard.
Or maybe......
That hear too much......
Some have been suggesting
That silence too can be deafening.
.........
Such as birds that sing and swing from tree to tree.
Passing right above me.
But not the me that is I.
The me that is truly...... "we."
"We" are the constructions created
By those that are still to come
And by those that "we" came from.
......
These thoughts,
Are they:
Heavenly sent?
Or just hell bent on surviving?-
Reviving when they're about to die.
Like so many conversations with strangers that turn to meaningless babble.
Random, linking words
Like so many pointless games of Scrabble.....
Not really directed at you or me.
Just words that flow free.
Free from anything inside.
Perhaps trying to hide
Or Pass undetected.
And not directly directed or connected
To or in....
Time or place.
Making them nearly impossible to chase before they die....
If they ever do.
And If
They ever get that chance.
......
Oh God why?
Why are they so often resurrected when they thought they found peace
On the cold- dark- concrete of the streets-
Trampled by pedestrians feets.....
Never hurt by the weight
But hurt only through indifference
Thrown about like a rag doll,
And greeted with no more compassion
Than one gives to a found object in the gutter.....
Setting the stage for future thoughts.
It's hard to find the frames of mind
That in time may come to see.
Of what it truly means to "be."
And what it is to be "we".......

1:00pm-10:30pm

Wind, grey and rain.

Will this be the same?

First time.

Sun shine.

Calm and light.

Loss of fright.

Energy, eneRGY, ENERGY.

Cold and dark.

Time to part.

Sit and ponder

Mind a wander.

Lips to cheek.

Knees are weak.

Left hand.

Stand alone.

......Alone at home.

Bus Rides

A blade of grass grows

and no one knows it ever existed.

In a vast sea of green

Most likely it will never be seen.

And though no one cares for this single blade

It was still there.

Though, I think it's still fair to say

It's existence was inconsequential

It will have a good life but with limited potential

Simply a part, but at least a part of something

And that's all anyone can hope for.

Older - Should all over myself

Sit.

Waiting, worried faces,

The hum of fluorescent lights.

What time is it?

Time to keep sitting.

Hopefully just visiting.

Not a single clock in sight

Time doesn’t matter

Not in times like this.

Sit…….

Think….

Too much for now..

I need a drink……

People come and go

Off to another department

Test,

Test,

Test…..

Worried,

Waiting,

Confused…..

Breathe in…..Breathe out…..

Try not to think about……….it-

IT- THIS THAT THE OTHER!

The other…..

Called name

Share worried gaze.

Walk past people

Indifferent face

Taken to another place

Waiting,

Now alone…

I want to be home….

Snuggle in bed….

No need for negative news…

Wait,

Wait,

Wait…..

Older - Not sure when

On the corner stands a man,
A squeegee in hand, he waits.
Running to cars and people that come by.
Very few even noticing he's alive
Until he is right before.
Look right through him or perhaps just passed.
pretending it is nothing more.

A man with tattered clothes, with perhaps the same tattered dreams as I.
A disposition too calm for the appearance radiated.
His harsh beard and scared face
The piercing blue eyes behind the shadow of darkness,
are in stark contrast with the grace and gentleness of his speech.

Unsure if my reality crosses with his.
If he boarders on the plane of insanity or confusion.
I don't see delusion in his eyes,
Perhaps only the delusion that there lies beauty in what to me seems desolate.

The sun pours out from a crack in the clouds.
Though to me insignificant, his eyes dart.
Mine follow.
As he walks to catch it, like a butterfly flying just out of reach
a car drives by
I lose focus and then he is gone

Second Hand

My brain hurt so I pulled it out my ear to check.

It seemed fine.

But when it came time to put it back.

It was no where I could see.

This has already happened to me.

Last time I found it inside my shoe.

This time it was time it was in there too.

My bathing suite was in my astronaut suite.

But why?

I don't remember doing that.

Once I was knocked so hard

I flew out really far.

I hit a planet.

And damn it, it was hard to get home.

I've painted sunshine inside my eye lids.

I can't sleep.

But I don't really mind.

All of a sudden I have so much time.

And now I see

It's all made of origami.

Everything is so confusing, but easily explainable.

Just need to think.

Just need to.

Just needs.

Just.

Ice please.