a couple of poems
The angels of solitude
encouraging dreams on desert sand
barren electricity fabricated from hope
the west coast paradise of magic
conjuring new lives from sheer want
breath combined with space
to be a solitary Buddha of creation.
The freedom of solitude
achieving the bliss of ignoring judgment
eating chocolate topped candy canes
inhaling the bloom of walking in space
carrying all essence to
The acceptance of solitude
responsible for one alone
through the submission to the mantra
What is is not all there is.
breathing again to wriggle some room from its weight
continuing on trying to make any sense of it all…
We are all just people
Trying to understand why we’re here
Making the best decisions we can
Even if they become the worst.
It is a living theme park
We just bounce from ride to ride
Alive and never sure what it real
We begin to enjoy the fact that
We begin to believe nothing is really real
Never wanting to know how the ride works
How it keeps moving after all these years
What’s important is that is does.
It becomes all too much after a while
So we drop a few more coins in the meter
Make the best of it.
We are all just people with the right
To be just that.