trundle out your weary poem
dust it off and polish it up
its going to be one those days
it wont trend
it wont get a bunch of thumbs up
but it'll be a nice piece
worth reading
worth believing
so run up the hardware to top speed
get that pen going  
give it your best shot
today is another day
and this is a new poem to reflect the new man you've become
this is a new start
on a fresh page
so get your game face on
and write that poem for me

.

Crooked pathways
twisting and turning
through sarcastic shadows
and broken branch detours
draining every desire

Climbing mountains, daily inclines
sapping strength
in challenges formed
of uphill battles
in a losing war

Following stagnant streams
flooded with teardrops
raining on every parade
of drenched floats with
soggy paper flowers

Blinded by the sun
wishing for white clouds
that only hover much darker
than those lonely nights
with no moon to hold you

Or lonely highways
of dotted line decisions
changing lanes
hoping for an exit
but finding a dead end...

Know that there will be a light
glowing of a caring heart
beaming brightly, illuminating the way
in every fog riddled alleyway
you may wander, for…

Wherever life leads you
no matter what you may face
obstacles that might present themselves
I will travel this journey with you…
you will never be alone

I do believe my days withing these
Concrete ashram walls are
Coming to an end.

It might be a slow ending, but
It'll be a good one.
It began the day I saw the

Beautiful truth behind the ugly
Mask of everyday insignificance.
Beauty and meaning;

Soft hand in a mild one.
Water strength.
Cement frailty.

Thoughts are like air; find their
Way from A to another
A.

Looking at my friend fitting
A door, cursing at the promise of
Adjustments,

Or enjoying the way the Project Manager
Leaves us never knowing whether
He's joking or not with a face

As cold as his project's foundations.
I fall in love with Life every day.
Even when I hate it.

I've learned that I never stop learning.
I'll be a slightly different man tomorrow,
Yet still myself.

Always still myself.
There is wisdom in flexibility; the
Holding on to nothing,

Even ones definition of oneself.
I was a construction worker.
Now, I'm a

Construction worker.
I take comfort in the fact
That the only comfort I'll

Ever really need, is the
One I give
Myself.

The sun is rising
Heat is arriving
Birds start chirpping
  Good day  As
   A  bit of light appears
From the sky above
     Hevan
       I call to you

there are more dreams in a moment of sunshine
than a century of night

I'm an assassin
Amongst shadows
Darting swiftly
Back and forth
Slicing you from
The inside out

there is a growing light inside, a young hour,
a raw sun falling down from everywhere
spring is near, birds are alluding
I'm sitting here, watching the air passing by
in this full emptiness, a joyful wonder
Karunesh
a god of compassion is looking after the alluring violence
in bloom
the patience of spring, uncomplicated
carries me somewhere
into laughter

under bridges
except John Lee ******
and Muddy Waters

float down
bereft around drown in
ripple

when I get down through
the rapids all wet
sputtering

I get to listening,,,

not forgetting flames me up
like a foam of whispers
bursts into with laconic daring
over darkened waters
your name hangs unwritten
I rolled over on a rib
but it's useless
how long am I going to ferment you in my armpit
with your fragile ****** smile?
chase me away like the passersby do
with the meaning of travelling
I was not and you were not
you were not in my dying
we were only a laden pool of sunlight
I didn't find any solution
than to behead the days
these thin days unraveled from myself
from the bone of the world peeled of magic
the art of forgetting is for those
who sleep on pillows

such a long, long road
I've been travelling to a destination
obliterated by pain
to this gravitational center, to this place
with no hiding space
only mute seagulls
have seen my screaming
I've cursed myself on pages,
diaries of gory hours
I've cupped myself in belated answers,
dancing tears
more than eyes can meet

while I was forgetting nothing about everything
the world revolved once, twice, a dozen of times
you were learning to dissipate your name
to waste it on the lapel of not yet discovered seas
in the silence of leaves

now I know this calmness,
this tenderness of dying
I could write this unthreatening poem
today, tomorrow
till forever finds some peace
perhaps
some forgetting