Saturday, June 24, 2017

a river is never angry


the river is not angry as it stumbles to the sea
tall grass grown so high in my absence
outcome of drinking three weeks binge
of daily torrential plum rain downpours
the river passes its muddy torrent
holding back none of the pain
in life i must be the same

hissing wind sings a song
masking what was going on
birds' wings batter the sky like a ladder
swoop through tree limbs and in the river patter
the muddy journey set for me
tossed houses like pebbles downstream
in life's evil uprooted foundations

wisps breeze passed currents climbing hills
as scooter mufflers grind the night
driving drunken on the way to fights 
in flights from what is naturally given 
unaware of a river's blissful dream 
the mock we see of liberty
unrestrained power crushing mercilessly

walking man can walk without a cane
bikes can be ridden without fashion
consciousnesses changeable without ration
like a river sweeping silt to its rocky bottom 
caressing boulders of obstruction 
progressive forward motion i know
but unlike a river, i can grow

tossed by upward drafts and cast upon the shore
pests are thrown upon their backs 
wiggling writhing legs in death's throes
i watch them struggle to upright themselves
in the river's blind expulsion of impurities
keeping none of the vile within its flow
as in life, to parasites, no mercy goes

eyes on the road and hands on the handlebar
riding the river like hugging my lover
heading for a good time home 
oblivious to tracks i left behind 
like a river, deaf to what i am told
feeling every trace of you on me
unlike the river, starting over if need be


June 24, 2017

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