Cabin on the no exit

 They had a place that felt like cheating
Lets call it the ribcage
Half between the ditch and the university
I'm a work horse, Im a rocking chair
Sing to me sweetly

They had a place 
To comb through me
To make me into something better
Force feed my ego to get it fatter
To make up for lost time

They had a place lets call it jealousy
Trying to convince me with loud arguments
They presented it on a two meter screen
With colors and music implications inbetween
But I couldn't relate

Who they were
In the beautiful fraternity
The sense of fomo creeping along
A leper like ghoul a shadow never gone
Hobbling trying to keep up with your steps

You can live here for a time
On the cul de sac Where tractors come monthly
To clear the accumulated refuse
Your limited possessions are supposed to humble you
yeah we have a place to let to occupy to use

A little space where sensation speaks
Through those emotions that own you
like overprotective parents that still do
Twisted recycled metal barriers
The carcass of a lorry outside the window

Part of you just wants to survive
the other is raised through lust and desire
You dream of smoother roads, ones that connect
They had a place not far from the school of life
It was however no exit

The refuge of water

 The diver wrote his name on the sea floor
sediment clouded the water
He looked upward to the surface ten stories above
In silence, dead silence he lay on his back
meditating on the seafloor
distant dark shapes transiting
From this point of view he was not prey

Just an observer, letting the faint light above
Speak to him below
Teach him in the fine twinkling ripples
Smooth him over in the depth and pressure
Invite him back to the surface
where most of the world avoids peace
As if agitation had some reward

On the ceiling of the submarine

 The submarine dove into the underwater canyon a few kilometers down.
Tracy the captain had told his men to adjust everything for the pressure. As they descended further than they had before.
They searched the bottom of the canyon for somewhere to conduct their research from.
The oxygen had been contaminated somehow before it was installed in the sub.
So one by one the men and women on board began to faint.
The captain got himself an oxygen mask.
He then did the heavy work of changing the huge oxygen tank by himself. Usually a job for two men.
After that he waited to see if his staff would awaken again.
He spent the following hour drawing on the ceiling in one of the of the chambers inside submarine.
The more he drew, the sleepier he got. Until he fell asleep on the ladder he had used to get up there.
He woke, something was carrying him. he was on a stretcher.
He asked about his staff. All accounted for.
His writing was found. It exposed his last thoughts as the man believed he and his crew would perish.
They went from full sentences about his love of life, his family and the world. To short words. Then to one last word. Hope.

Throw my heart to God

 Sweat drops from my temple this morning
But I'm fully dry inside
Yearning for the holy approach
Maybe I missed the sign

My thousand faults clap
radiant stagnant audience of sitting naysayers
My hands come together in prayer
My desires divide them definitively

I throw my heart toward God
See it dive back to earth

WELL BLESS ME FIRST
Why must I go through these trials
God shows me beauty and abundance
The next parched land and dry lakes

Pale sun polished carcass bones
Of things that once walked and swam
Then I see God change the skies again like game
Deluge proceeds and God greets me

Open my eyes to this
make me see
The land leaping with life again
Every creature inhabiting

Fish and reptiles return to the water
God speaks to me in volumes
The world his mouth
Inside me his words

I slowly get closer
My heart seems to keep it's trajectory
The audience hushes
As I trek to those holy places

In other lives, on other occasions
he told me to go to

Old boy on his bike

 Old boy on the bike is that me in a few decades
senses and body worn NO
Let me be on the go nonstop
He lost quite a bit of his hair
When i saw him I checked my own scalp
As if it was catchy or accelerating mine
There are only bits and pieces he can hold onto

He tries to adjust those parts until they can fit the rest of his head
It looked ragged his face disappointed on his uphill bike ride
Motorbikes and cars leaned into him as he struggled with the pedals
No smirk on his face just that frumpy frown
He wanted to smile or to liven but the face kept pushing back in
making him feel happiness was pretty much impossible
storm about ten minutes behind him, can't blame him

Elderly groove

 Age doesn't fall over this old one here 
Just other people
It all tries to swarm into her but
fails each time

hoping hopping and pulling back the minidog
Cleaning up it's waster one handed plastic bag tactic oh
Throws themself over the low chain to exchanging leash
So the dog come too from underneath

Now into the carpark philosophically
There it is 1950s dance rotating on a wooden floor
Missing the oncoming cars and trucks by inches
supermarket shoppers keep their peepers out peeping

 

slipping along the track

 I like to see how she shimmies
On the cat wide pavement
Skipping cracks white cement filling
Red brick imitating lips

Like a wilderness joker
when you least expect
Rounding the corner
Curiosity I thought was mine

looking back like a caress
Avoiding the sidewalk debris
In a skip i'd revisit to prove as fact
Moving up boldly to the elecric wire

Those suave cool legs never tired