ZEN

A softness of well worn gates with sharp edges

amongst a retro strike and abe-happygathering

Bricks crumble into the overplayed cosmos

adding to it's appetite; playing it again

and ultimately starving it's appeal

It's lost somewhere in 1980

Red innocence in shoes and a lost gymnastic ability

are all that remain

"I really don't know a fucking thing"- I've said that

All these words amount to the fleeting thoughts of maybe

that float through my mind, 

I couldnt tell you what it means now though

Not on days where you're really put in your place

against a backdrop of a different world; something's missing

I can see the ground shift like a conveyor under my feet

It's never still nor quiet

Just comforted with handrails and landmarks 

that can't (or won't) move

A rosey glow around a feathered nest tolerates my unrest

It's this and then it's that and then it's this again

I'm banking on a Perfect Day

Eat this, wear that, work here, think nothing

I'll climb into overalls and tag bracelets

Rest my old head on a spike in the corner of the room

it'll jeer at me of course

but I'll throw genetically modified sustenance at it

until it shuts up

like an abrupt ending

SRWB 2010