Two words
Off-guard
The same
meaning
With simplicity,
you move on
Love- hard
To live on
_ like
Two lovers ** combined
with gravity
What do we address
to people that
words appear
The same tear
Familiar place fear
Her address you hear
What is next to bear
It reminds me of twins
you got them bare
pinned offspring
the ((Spring Robin))
Two different eggs

(( Organic fresh/Rotten))
Robin Robin
Bo Hip-hop in or Baby baby
Janice Joplin sing sing_
You row gently
down the hill her name
Gave you the chill
But meets together
  the same
New singer machine
threads become

Hooked the bobbin.
Oh! Brother?
D-Danger DNA
The same address
His last name
Mr.Robbin's
Mrs. Jones got a thing
going on
Embarrassed he
pops out_
Still life kids
firey-fly lids
Sparkle out
I have two words
((THE SAME))

Why do we say
the wrong things?
No opinion
U-R forced
same boring
clothes
Address from I-Phones
Medieval Castles The
husband or Wife
I am waiting for _
He'll be coming around
Her mountain
Japan Fuji apple hike

Blew/Blue_ remain
Ate/Eight_ sides moon pain
Nose/Knows_ windows splash rain

The bird Crane  Mailbox Lois Lane
Superman  no address flies her flame
The crane to lift her poem words

Love falls Canadian waterfalls
How her hair falls
the tree twins
Go timber__
Shapes/Escapes
The type small, medium

The lodge curves large
INN/  She's In
Or he's not
your type
When you point
it's not cool and polite
The pencil point
She is skinny
as a pencil date

Mom fruits and dates
Grate/Great
Her candle
Burned her address
The next townhouse
Was exactly the same
In everyone's
Genes/Jeans
Song Billy Jean
Writing is in all
of our genes
I'm the Robin
that
flew with
your tweet of words

It's not difficult to go against the crowd
if you have a precedence for doing so

Pushing back on bandwagoning
is often a bandwagon activity

Making all decisions as the exact opposite of the crowd
is still allowing the crowd to decide what you do

It isn't very hard to beat the status quo
but it is to beat your personal precedence

Always going against the crowd
isn't any better than always going with it

The real challenge comes in
making every decision for yourself based on truth

Not going against the crowd
but ignoring it entirely

a  flawless poem
if such there were,
will always be,
the next one

my poor soul,
my rag tag heart
has no censor,
so careless, reckless,
as if words were but
frivolous treasures,
easy spent, easy get

if only, how I wish I
could harvest my best,
with golden cutlery excise
the single flawless poem,
that I know in my possess

lay down this hand so weary
from cupping tears,
be satisfied at long last,
so much so,
that my casket lowered,
hands in repose companioned,
clutching his best, easing his rest,
a paper record to join his ash,
his flawless poem,
at long last

This is not
the time
for her
Resume  I- I sir_ with love
Above alllong

What do we write
Web-BITE He's
Beer In The Evening

And She's
All
guaranteed
Good Deeds__
Never love
expired
Marilyn Monroe
**** white dress
going way up in flight
The candle in the wind
I presume
The artist
with all
her heart of
words
Show the rainbow
room

Love Firey Boom
Tulips reading her lips
Her garden Of Eve
Became toxic
Her love needs
to
be beautified
Taking some words
out that were lied
To be justified
Madonna wearing
her bustier
Lady Madona baby
at her breast
I presume she
couldn't
handle
the rest___
I assume love for all
poem requiem
The Italian art
of the Colesium
The ((Collegium))
college chicks

There is not fancy
words for spitting
Lady-like gum
I presume humbug
Her heirloom like
her resume's
Worthy every day
a Holiday

Everlasting embossed
fourteen karat gold
paper
Abloom drawing
  The many types
of blood
rooms
Disguised costume
The court joined
judge Judy
Suspended resume
Boom all doomed
Nom De Flume
Girly powder room
Slender long
back room
He's her man is
there still room
The showroom
made a mob hit
The bridegrooms
Cornered
nook back

The Gunroom
We need to get
gun control
Save everyone's
soul
Too many
Schools
Loved ones are dying
help one another
So we can live more
Put ourselves
in a better world

The body and mind
Peace
Her resume
is like the
role of dice

Every time I look up,
The clouds will block my sight.
Every time I raise my arms,
Shackles hold me tight.
They keep me to the ground,
With a fierce and gruesome might.
And as I glance at my surroundings,
I know this isn’t right.

They say that hope will help you,
Save you from drowning in the sea.
But still the arms will wrap me up,
Laugh as they listen to my plea.
I’ll have freedom in my palm,
Then trip and drop the key.
And as I try to escape myself,
I know no one’s saving me.

As I sit at the desk I’m writing,
With the blood from my own veins.
My hands will remain shackled,
Still weighed down by the chains.
But I’m fighting, and I’m trying,
Whistles blowing from the trains.
I’m not screaming, I’m not crying,
Run away from all the pains.

While sitting in the corner,
Lifting up my aching hand,
I think about the people,
Standing outside, as they planned.
This is my new place now,
Suppose this my home land,
I can still see liberty,
But I’m sinking in the sand,
Stuck inside my own mind,
They’ll never understand.

His hand clamped around her wrist,
Held firm beneath the tree.
He inhaled the fresh and warm air,
Smelled the lilac and the sea.

She glanced at him so slyly,
Warm lips curled into a grin.
If only she could tell him,
If only she could win.

When he found her in the corner
She warned him of her sin.
He pulled her from the ground then,
Her once full frame now so thin.

She told him he must leave now,
She pushed, a gentle shove.
His red lips met her chapped ones,
"I'll never leave, my only love."

But just then, two weeks later,
He placed a lily on her grave.
A tear rolled down his dry cheek,
The only one he couldn't save.

Still he sits, beneath the tree now,
Smells the lilacs and the sea.
She's just a whisper in the wind now,
"But the only whisper that's for me."

Rest stops and road weary vagabonds
Peanut butter, water and stale bread;
Cookie crumbs and lip smirched paper cups
Somewhere's last weeks coffee stained newspaper
Blown out tires and the side of the road  
Deep, thick, unmistakable, bear paw-prints
lie fallow ― undead in the mud
           

Feeling the raw silence of what you’re thinkin'
ooze out of a festering puncture wound within
Churning soliloquies  gnawing  away
at the unspooled  threads  fray,  
understanding there’s  no  fear
in  less  than nothing  to  lose
                                  

Sometimes change happens
so fast you don’t even notice
We can wait a lifetime and never be sure;
never taking that first step that leads to a journey
of a thousand miles ― just a step away


It’s not some kind of bewitching
     loneliness  spell  cast
never seeing another sole
in measureless hours and days
Passing moments languish imponderably,
there are no feelings I can see,
        by  looking  away ―
always as blind as we want to be


Wanting what was taken more than what is given;
still doing the things we learned we shouldn't do again
The longest miles are the trodden ones
with only traces of learning how to be
    alive ― off the grid; alone again


It’s a journey where there's no map to guide you
Just  a deepening furrowed lifeline standstill
Stalled at a crossroads in the palm of your hand;
uncertainty deriding  where you’re headed ―
both a reason and an excuse when we're not sure
we're not alone on such a long one way road
we've been out here traveling  on
 

Forbearing the truth that holds my soul,
the only way through the ache
is through the wound
                                     ... and
I’ll get down this long road somehow


    harlon rivers ... May 2018
     ... travelogue 3 of some

Three thousand miles
navigating a storm
without drop of bad weather
Abacus odometer clicks
rotating forward ―  
spinning with the
world go round

Circling back down
a long and winding road;  
where unforgotten memories
were once searchingly explored,  
untrodden pathways
coursing way up north of alone
on the low highway
  
Now an aging shepherd
wonders without a compass ;
a vagabond deprived of light
from an ever blurring north star
Heart empty as a gas tank
with a broke down gauge,
running on fumes of hope
for unpromised tomorrows
Running from loneliness
just to be on the run

The gales of silence bellow
No feelings I can see ― lay me low

Wild-eyed daydreams
of Full sails billow out
through the windshield,
only hearing the unspoken
moments sigh restlessly ―    
The dull droning road rumble
re-sighs renunciatively,
a tired monotone voice
mimicking the loathe silent echo
wallowing in an
omnipresent hollow void
deriding unspoken chaos
between the passing centerlines ―

A frost heave pothole erupts,
with a leaf-spring rattling thud,
as a fleeting cloud of dust arises,
set adrift with the draught
headed off the east side
of the Alcan highway:
blown way outside the lines,  
towards the Alberta prairie

White knuckled steering wheel
held sway,  rolling down
a beckoning wilderness
          reincarnation; 
default reset button paused ― 
stuck in a moment ― until another jaw rattling
frost-heave pothole in the highway,
            jars it free

Leaving it all behind
like a sigh breathed
in a silence a heart has outgrown;
just a fleeting cloud of dissipating dust,..
         a paling whisper
the past seems to send forth
  like a fading last breath

Letting it all unfold to become what it is


     harlon rivers ... May 2018
       ... travelogue 2 of some

Can you tell me
please
which way now is home
I used to know, my dear
The way was clear
There was no fear

Tying my walking shoes
I knew I needed to get clear of here
thought I'd find
all that was dear

The road though, it is narrow
The cliff it is shear
My balance is
woozy

Can you tell me my dear

which way is home
which way do I go from here,
I think I oughta know
But the hills they are wavering
The ocean is in turmoil
The mountains are slick
far too dangerous

The desert has no mercy

I know something and with this knowledge
I think I must be cursed
I think I have it
Peace & Home
goes and comes
and comes and goes.