Saturday, April 11, 2015

Chirp... not a bird.

Oh a good day interrupted by the chirp of a technical bird.
My word, in my home a small circular dome with battery
attached... evil contraption. Chirp, chirp in a circadian rhyme
disconnect the battery and it still peeps out a chime.

You are interrupting Joni Mitchell... furry sings the blues.

Bringing smoke and dreams... not allowed in this established place.

We have been hoodwinked to a placated place in a somewhere blues.

I want my harmonica, so I can blow my brains out.

We replace the battery, another small battle won in this odd post card existence.

I hear the blue jay, mocking bird, and crow for real. Screeches, trills, and giggles.

Techno birds warning of impending fire? Shut the fuck up.

Monday, April 6, 2015

Not again nor evermore

There is a great joy inside
welling in an outburst of tears,
beyond the blue horizon
upon a golden blur of tears.

What is this joy?
I do not know.

What are these tears?
I cannot say.

What is this place?
No clue today.

A fog around the tracks
rolling silent as thunder
a belief in what was what
and all that went asunder.

A simple question
asked a million times,
a riddle of wonder
in uncertain times.

Who are you now?
Asked the fog about,
Oh, I've certainly forgotten
said a waterspout.

It's been asked over and over
many times before...
I don't really know,
I'm not really sure,
and I won't question myself