Poetry in Progress III

The Path; The Way; The Course Taken

I know what I should do

Tis a matter of what I know

And what is done

Two separate binaries

Zero correlation

How to put these together?

That’s my task as of recent

I know there’s some way to put them together

Has to be

Research points to yes

An indefinite confirmation waiting to be found

It’s out there

Somewhere, just don’t know where but

Somewhere, it’s a place to start

So I know the path

It’s there

Hanging out there

Now, what way brings me to the path

I see it

Hanging out there

Far off in the distance

Clouds covering the subtle beast

Mongst the mist

Between velvet sheets a many

Sitting there

Pondering off in the distance

Asking me to tag along

The journey to come

The course taken is one not of the path

Nor the way

It’s a course taken my own direction

My own dictation of things unfolding into

Nothingness

Plain and simple

The way I like it

Sitting there

Pondering there

Asking questions and wanting no answers

It’s a course for now

The path is there

The way is there

But for now

I take my course

Looking off to the way

Following this path

Letting things happen

As they do

18^th Hour

She will walk through

This door

I am sure

Until then

I puff, pass, puff

Put out

A knock, emerges

Put it all away

Any excess thoughts

Thinking simply

What will I eat for dinner?

What’s the weather like today?

How was your day?

My day was fine,

Will I ever fulfill my full potential?

Strike the last one out of thought

Simple solutions

Void of much thought

She is looking lovely

Makeup done the way I like it and

Cleavage to tease me

Licking her lips

Knowing I won’t be going down on them

Tonight

Midsummers evening

Too hot for the likes of me

Sweating direly

Sipping on warmed tea

Faint glances made to me

Wondering what’s going on in her mind

And when I’ll get under her skirt

Cat meows

Radio plays

Wildling through

The days

Red Maos

Dirty bays

Drifting through

The ways

Hands turning

That bastard clock never right

Time irrelevant

No matter

I continue

The best to my ability

Knowing nothing else

This is my knowing

Touching myself discreetly

She strolls sweet eternity

This hollow room

I am sure

Now is then, then is now

I puff, puff, puff

Put out the brain

A meaning, emerges

Tire

Sleepy today

Nestled inside

I don’t want to hide

But I can’t write

Express myself

Not today

Too many thoughts to think

And not enough to stencil in

Between their stenches when

Smelling roses

My primary desire

Nothing in bloom

Though

Desolate wasteland

Finding myself here

Questioning

A beer and fag in hand

Pissed as

Playing with kitty

Seventh Hour

Time passing

Faster right now

Why can’t it go by slower?

Wish it would just hurry up!

Ready for

Sleeping

Dreams to wish away the day

What a time it was

Ready for the next

Done with this

Keep drinking

Won’t do

Still up

Thinking now

Ha, now that’s a queer thought

Thinking

About what, exactly?

Unsure, still

Thinking

Not moving

Or doing anything towards any progression in living

Now that would be something

A thing quite strange and foreign to someone like me

Eighth hour now

Or is it the ninth?

Can’t be bothered thinking such thoughts

When there are other things to think about

Like the thing I never did

That I god damn well should have

Remain regretting

Revisited hollows

No matter

Pondering

If this was that and that

Turned out to be those

What will be was what was done

Surely, that is the way it is

And, still

Nothing better to do

Than sitting here

Wondering

At this moment

What else I could have done to diverge from this path

I saw the edge of the cliff ages ago

Knew it was coming to this

This purgatory of constantly being ready to fall

Anticipating the plunge

The bends that would follow

I went to university for hrist’s sake

What else could be expected of me?

I’ve got this job

It’s not the best I could find

There were other options

Down the line

I know I could do better

This is it

However

What it is

Little boxes

Nestled inside

Finding the comfort in what I have

Munching poison

Inhaling toxins

A sickly body is this

It tires me

But I am tired

Tired of caring

Tired of trying

Tired of speaking

Tired of being tired

Plain tired

Tired as tired can be

So nothing else to say

Thrusting down: the weary pen

I remain here: my dreary den

Sunshone

Cold days abandoned

Here comes the sun

Over crescent mount Tai

Above pyramids plundering

Shine silence

A gay feeling inside

Crazy Island I call home

Shadows shone sea holm

Aqua sea foam shame

Consciousness exchanged

Idealness received

Happiness aggrieved

I prayed for the warmth

And now that it is here

Humility soaks the sickened skin drought

Intuition speaks silently of secret doubt

Stoned Forest

Smoke life until death amongst the smiling grasses this stoned forest the stone figures embracing a lover’s quarrel  the marriage no parole left wondering I toss the half-smoked reefer spliff into the depths of the pond marvel the granite formations raising against god’s blue sky the sun blinds my eyes as the irises zoom in on the beauty the whole god damn scene radiating brilliance no life rests in the waters below none living in the clouds above I continue walking down that grassy road viewing those manmade mountains not a worry in the world a couple approached me knowing not my tongue providing astute pantomiming their request a simple picture I comply and snap a few iconic shots of the lovers against the backdrop of endless granite oasis the scene painting the lover’s quarrel those two stones lips extended never touching I return the phone they smile and I continue on my merry way I spot a casual coffee joint in the distance and decide best to spend some time here too bothered looking at manmade stones for miles and miles instead a whiskey please and a cup of Joe they follow my order soon after sitting there peacefully a man approaches me with other men asks if they can join and of course I invite them to sit down they want to see how much I can drink so I do as I am told beating them to the punch pushing back the liquor quick as the hands can move and throat react smiling only chaser a cup of Joe can feel it in my liver and the acid reflux that follows these fools before me know not my ability I wager a bet they refuse walk off and I sit there alone looking out at those stones a many light up a fag wondering if it’ll ever end and why they are there

And I ask for my bill

And I leave

And I anticipate going back

Back to this magical forest

A Narnia in Eden

But I’ve other things

Things of importance

That take away my time now

For the time being

Hu Men

They pat down the crowd

I approach

White face and all

Not a finger on my fabric

Here I am

Plentiful Wasteland

Flowers in bloom

Came as they were

As they should be

I see his face across the way

Here I am

Walking on cement

Here I am

Waiting for the exit

Here I am

There are happy families a many

Not a care in the world

Little emperors strutting this way and that

I know deep down

Something is odd here

History erased built anew

A tarnished image

Of an ideal world

I am strolling

Here, I am strolling

Trying not to think

Basking in the sun

Ancient red sun oppressive blaze cast down

Memories sweat from these porcelain glands

I take a photo mongst the flowers

And snap a picture of the

Forbidden City

Tarnished, and built anew

End

It doesn’t need an ending:

Not now;

Not yet;

Not ever.