A night sky is a piece of black paper,
With little holes drawn in chalk.
Rested by a soft, white, light,
Warmed by a nearby lantern.
If we were to leave the cold earth now,
And fly up, so high,
We would feel the warmth too.
I'd bet there's an empty star, somewhere far,
Sparkling against the inky sky.
If we're kind and treat it right,
That star will keep us safe,
If not for forever, than tonight.

I wanted to write this poem about you,
Tie in the northern lights,
Another lonely piece where I think about what we said.

But my fingers wouldn't type the words,
It seems my body is fed up with that.

I'm sorry for all my whining,
We're done here,
For a little bit at least,
Love you lady!

vapors in the sky
missiles flown in anger

there are madmen out there
who like to have their presence known

who have a twisted great need
to be of some worldwide strongman relevance

why settle for being a robot
when a little effort
will take you on a wonderous journey

the clock,
it ticks.

tick
   tock
       tick
            tock

it keeps me awake
in the silence of the night.

that odd hour when
it isn't quite midnight
but also not quite dawn.

it's deafening almost.

it makes me hear things..

is there someone in the house?

creak


tick
   tock
       tick
            tock

no.

maybe i should check.

the clock,
it ticks.

and it keeps me up.

i barely sleep.

a wisp in the night
you are a flame I followed
till the ends, till you went out
and left me in the pitch black
all alone.

I care not
for the age I am

Too much sand has past through the hourglass
gram after gram

. . . . . . .

Wishing that I could
turn it around
But time has the chapters of the book
locked-strapped down

. . . . . .

Then after I fell
from the tree and
hard-thumped the ground

I stood up and I looked sheeplessly around

"Egad" ! I said with a reluctant scowl
I care not
for this moment wiping the pain off my brow

. . . . . . . .


Now that the salt has
turned blue steel to rust

It leaves me with thoughts that I find just disgust

. . . . . . .

The temple crowns . . .
snow white in disguise

The truth is affirmed
inside reside all of the lies

. . . . . . .

So many things
I care not for . . .

Seems like the list aquires
daily
more after more

. . . . . . . . .

The burden's great that holds me down

The elementals of time
have shackled me to the roots in the ground

. . . . . . .

Yet I set sail to sea
with one set of sure-sails

knowing there's hurricane force winds
and tempestuous gales

. . . . . . .

Just one more thing I care not for  👇

"I'm just another mouse that wants to hear itself roar"

I am a student in Paris, a med-school freshman, one of the crowd.
This week is all introductions, orientation functions and instructions.
“Settle in, get your books, parking passes and find your classes.”
I got my ID - I’m a Vip in the bourgeoisie - does that look like me?

Freshmen join a ‘buddy program’ so things seem less hostile
I met my buddy last week, she’s the consummate boss - effortlessly busy.
She’s got my folder (oh my), full of check-lists. I’ve yet to see her smile.
She’s a third year, from Chamonix, a town in the jagged Alps, near Italy.

If you want me, right after classes, I’ll be at Les Deux Parisiens,
a shaded coffee shop across from school that feels like a garden.
They have everything - from coffee to pizza and martinis - it’s awesome.
For 17€ : try the ‘La Campione,’ pizza with beef and chorizo (sausage)

I am a student in the misty rain, stepping carefully on cobblestones
- they pool water geometrically - I’m heading home (6 Av.) walking alone.
Nothing’s still, classes end at noon - it’s the city, sidewalk’s are full, Ubers uber, mopeds mope, bikers bike, people scatter, umbrellaless commuters.

I haven’t made any new friends yet - I’m not worried - I’m just beginning.
.
.
Songs for this:
Day Tripper by MonaLisa Twins
Café Europa by Quadro Nuevo
Count Contessa by Azealia Banks & Lone [E]
Robinson Crusoe by Art of Noise