Friday, October 9, 2015


What are we catering to
In this infinite loss of 'fitting in'?
This grind of bland, blunt, normalism
This context of seasoning-less empty
Promoting monosyllabic grunting
And smiles following the glut of 'safe'.
Interior design shimmies
Under the lamplight of division
Carting away the 'taught' behaviors
That would have us bound and gagged-
To the luster of too many.
Droves of deviated idea
Digressing the further I wander;
"O, untraveled path, take me home to unknown places..."

This gate is hinged to wind and birdsong
To water trickling down from leaves
Bathed in the uncharted rainfall
Leaking softly from an unknown heaven's whims.

Unlock these limbs from followed behaviors
Diminishing devices obliterate the disease of the mainstream

"I do believe we're only passing through..."

"All fired up on you..."

What if it's me, "I say" to myself
And a new smile forms;
It is me, me and the winding path that kindles its way
Loosely, lovingly, and sometimes, laboriously
Through this life:
This life of formidable retrospect
And incredible potential.

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