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CP Walker Dec 2015
Lately, I've tried to relate greatly to the daily slew of poppy brew and wisdom grew by the tv news crew spittin their wisdom from the pedestal push of the routine pedal stool mush that slid across the floor of lava rocks and hot spots that rupture soon enough when the keys rattle in doorknob and the whiny creak opens with meek silhouettes on shadowy walls of latex seepage...the colors' fingers stretch from the threads, penetrate the outlet, crawl through the cord, and tap my brain through the spine post run. Whiskey was the inception, but the jar was the culprit for sure: the vessel that drilled my brains and scratched the black background noise of my dreams. Logic plays in the background but the car fume imagery bores me lately. Need someone else to care to pretend for a minute, need two cafecitos to go, need three job securities to take a vacation from three life voids, y necesito una chica seria for the rest of this conversation...unless the inconvenience of engagement confuses she like the language attempts on me. Gone fishing, for the missing, for the family don't listen, for the docks do rock, and the waves make the the light prowl the wake off the take of the bow of the ballast aft tower. Opportuney viola sin duda, ninazungumza kiswahili...clock me in, blanket spanker, tuck away your worries. I love you and care about you too
I have no idea what any o this mean
CP Walker Sep 2015
Paying rent and walking to school;
Buying text books that just make me drool:

Why must I do these scary, dumb things?
What end should I seeks from ambiguous schemes?

I suppose that little piece of paper pays off:
A degree in BS--or 'life skills' I've been taught;

Well who's life, I ask, for surely not mine;
I don't need money or a house, I'm just fine!

Why must we all pursue this professional life...this American dream?
There are so many other, simple ways match esteem.

I'm tired of approval and guilt come from lack!
I'm tired of the weight of expectations on my back!

I'm tired of pursuing this life I don't want!
I'm tired of college, of debt, and of taunt!

I do need a better job: that's agreed!
But I don't need a job that can't see me for me...just some a dog of a higher pedigree...a little fish in an over-saturated, inflated sea of qualification, mastery, and certain uncertainty.

What happened to spontaneity? To chasing a dream? To not letting anyone run your life? I guess it died in your childhood with you same as me? So follow me down this stream of conformity to the white collar life in a box routine, oh joy.
New school year for a future I'm faking and don't want
CP Walker Sep 2015
A mile to work and a mile to home;
I roam this bay town more often alone

Than with anyone else who's willing to stay;
I fray and I wither like Bill back in the day

Of those times so funky where music was fresh;
Outta breath I would get singing along in my vette:

I pretend, quite often, that instead I do own;
But no, it's well know of my junker I roam

That I travel point A to point B by such mode;
Yes, I go via foot or death trap on the road

That is ever before me and ready to fight;
Whether night or day light, my knees give their might

And walk and stomp and push best they can;
Whether sit or stand or cross bridges off land

I do hope to pickup a better way,
Less stranger;
But danger aside, I drive on: me and my ford ranger.
Money pit not worth the spit but business necessitates these trips
CP Walker Jun 2015
Closed in so tight by this ten-cornered room;
It rains through the window with thunder and gloom.
The branches reach out and scratch with anxiety;
But my window stays closed, as I pose in shear piety.
I blast my heart-attack music as loud as she dares;
Rest on the bed deep in thought with no cares.
Need some water, cotton mouthes swam in the same canal as me as a child, and memory manifests.
Tuck myself in comfortably about my new nest;
And what's best, or even better, or maybe just a tad less:
Is that I just cannot come to accept the fact that life is worth breathing without you:
Especially, lately--eyes shaking, dry heaving in doubt of truth.
Pretty sure you know what I mean, unless I'm asleep once again, and this is just a memory of a dream on replay. Who knows these days. Certainly stay lazy and lose thought when down under
CP Walker Jun 2015
Just let my fingers type, as they may, and feel your curves of energy. I feel your frequencies through simple words enough to sense emotion.
Subtle language, you may use, to convey thought's connection:
I understand them sure the same as looking at your complexion; don't take much introspection, did I mention bout to have a mean intervention with myself, stick around if you're down off the shelf, amount another, no wonder. Any way, here we go:

So I was off for a stroll earlier today, thinking about problems 'stead of appreciating the good things in life, when I came upon this sudden realization, I need separation from my loved ones to appreciate their true caring for me at the level it is. I...what is wrong with me-the mindless, brainless, shameless, blameless, tameless, circumstantial-rainless one, who cannot seem to come to agreement with his Mother about where to live fun-thought sieving through the sand ground.

Cannot keep going, getting sloppy. Close the tomb. Words are confused like a brainless bafoon.
No more swoonin for ya,
Swim quick like pain at the door for ya. Then let the energy store more, adorn the shores of need-to-do-this lists and other various chores, and what's more, I've gone on autopilot and let the trail behind my word with the last of my day's energies, blessed down the sun upon me.
Up there, sir, that high branch
CP Walker Apr 2015
Why did you think your opinion should shed?
Some kinda brash lettin words outcha head.
No body said your words should be spoken.
Re-fuddle them fumblin foul things now broken.
You always give up so soon, too soon.
You always relax beneath the full moon.
And you try and you try to socialize more;
But your eyelids resist and you can't cross the door.
And the wispy wisp-wisps float up over brow;
Such peripheral tests in a lofty soft style.
Night time becomes such a strange, sad routine:
Ever in thought sliding ever in dreams.
I sit in my lounge watching night time close in;
My head is laid back, thoughts are stacked, let's begin.
I'm losing my rhythm, my floating on back;
I'm slowly now melting, for buoyancy lacks.
Good night now to consciousness ever in sight;
Good luck to all out there with what's wrong and what's right.
The people over me are having loud obnoxious ***...rude. Nobody want to hear you yelling, grow up. Haha
CP Walker Feb 2015
Space is gone,
Feet off the ground,
Gotta few thoughts,
So I'm throwin em down.

Lesson 1 learned:
Gotta freshly express,
Just a walk in the rain,
And I'm feeling refreshed.

Seeing colors and vibes,
The energies flow,
Got a graceful impression,
Of this frequency low;

Had a terrible stumble,
In a wonder so deep,
Felt the waves of the ocean,
20 miles from sea;

Quite in tune with nature,
Kissed the clouds from above,
Got a taste of the winter,
From the bottom of the tub;

Such a cold sensation,
I haven't felt in so long,
Such a powerful thought,
I've forgotten, forlorn.

Still yet to have my tea,
For the nightcap per close,
Wipe the tired out my eyes,
With the brew nightmare shows;

Thoughts got dark for a spell,
And the fence sure did squeak,
Had to run from bad thoughts,
And return to the creek;

The place way back,
In my memories deep,
Where I swam with the snakes,
And the dreams kept me meek.

Time to call it quits,
Can't connect thoughts no more,
Bout to pass out for now,
Leave this day-drift from shore.
I'm sleepy
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