Dec 2015
We all have infinite interior strength
Cycling, chasing love in my dream,
embodied by an unidentifiable spectra,
of a woman.
Through San Franciscan streets,
I reach a hill too steep,
but not for the woman I follow,
and
I, filled with trepidation,
attempting to remain surreptitious,
inch down
hands firmly squeezing on my brakes,
only to fall, flat on my face.
I sit front row on a mid-week ******,
in surprise to catch the closing act
of
the Berkeley based Morning Benders.
The drummer jumps down from the stage
to
land on my chest. "Ben!" He proclaims.
No.
"Bobby;" I exclaim. We catch up-talking
the state of Indie music,
as my family drives away from
the venue, into the distance, to leave me
in the biting cold. I forget my jacket,
and
walk back to the hotel, or, campground?
Freezing
and alone,
mid-******.
In the rough of the Devil's camping ground,
Satan, the Prince of Darkness himself tramps around-
holding the infinite trump card-(A 40 ft circle)
in which nothing living may stay and survive.
I get into a fist fight, with a kid
who has been in the same rehab,
at the same time as me,
over the past three years.
In and out. In and out we go.
But, together.
He is lanky
and
gets hold of my wrists,
attempted head butts,
I struggle free
escaping his vice of a grasp
and
lay him out
with one right hook,
splaying him down to lay
between two cars.
For, we are in a parking lot,
(To mention this, I forgot)
outside of some conference
being held. I assume it is
recovery related. I always liked
this kid, and thought we were friends.
What happened?
I wonder.
North to the Liberties, let's
go to the punk show
and
dance as we would to
Joy Division, even when
everything is going wrong,
it can be ironic that we are
still so happy. Standing
outside with the kids in the know.
She stands staring, from her lips
hangs a clove. I dangle on the edge
of the wall, and stare back in awe.
Everything brightens clear, as
my senses are heightened. Everyone
warned us not to fall in love,
at this bar.
A very Bill Murray Christmas, takes us
by pleasant surprise. Cuddling in a
corner, with a fire crackling away.
This scene, is no dream. The rest are,
beamed from my unconscious.
We all have infinite interior strength
Cycling, chasing love in my dream,
embodied by an unidentifiable spectra,
of a woman.
Through San Franciscan streets,
I reach a hill too steep,
but not for the woman I follow,
and
I, filled with trepidation,
attempting to remain surreptitious,
inch down
hands firmly squeezing on my brakes,
only to fall, flat on my face.
I sit front row on a mid-week ******,
in surprise to catch the closing act
of
the Berkeley based Morning Benders.
The drummer jumps down from the stage
to
land on my chest. "Ben!" He proclaims.
No.
"Bobby;" I exclaim. We catch up-talking
the state of Indie music,
as my family drives away from
the venue, into the distance, to leave me
in the biting cold. I forget my jacket,
and
walk back to the hotel, or, campground?
Freezing
and alone,
mid-******.
In the rough of the Devil's camping ground,
Satan, the Prince of Darkness himself tramps around-
holding the infinite trump card-(A 40 ft circle)
in which nothing living may stay and survive.
I get into a fist fight, with a kid
who has been in the same rehab,
at the same time as me,
over the past three years.
In and out. In and out we go.
But, together.
He is lanky
and
gets hold of my wrists,
attempted head butts,
I struggle free
escaping his vice of a grasp
and
lay him out
with one right hook,
splaying him down to lay
between two cars.
For, we are in a parking lot,
(To mention this, I forgot)
outside of some conference
being held. I assume it is
recovery related. I always liked
this kid, and thought we were friends.
What happened?
I wonder.
North to the Liberties, let's
go to the punk show
and
dance as we would to
Joy Division, even when
everything is going wrong,
it can be ironic that we are
still so happy. Standing
outside with the kids in the know.
She stands staring, from her lips
hangs a clove. I dangle on the edge
of the wall, and stare back in awe.
Everything brightens clear, as
my senses are heightened. Everyone
warned us not to fall in love,
at this bar.
A very Bill Murray Christmas, takes us
by pleasant surprise. Cuddling in a
corner, with a fire crackling away.
This scene, is no dream. The rest are,
beamed from my unconscious.
We all have infinite interior strength
