Tiles damp and unforgiving
Like granite
Cover his bed;

The rock of misfortune is his pillow;

On a broken public stool
He leans,
An urban fixture
Unwashed and unseen
For every ruthless reason between
Hopeful birth and grateful death;

He once played lead guitar
In a band,
In Tennessee,
Like Jimi,
He says....

Then he landed a gig in Woodstock
Planting poppy seeds on fields rife with fertility
Where cash crops thrive
And feed hopeful babies,
Cheeks plump with the promise and pride
On which great nations thrive...

Then the monsoon descended,
Sweeping sown seeds and trees in full bloom
Into a desert of despair;

And no one cares....

That tiles damp and unforgiving
Like granite
Cover his bed;

That the rock of misfortune is his pillow;

That he leans on a broken public stool,
An urban fixture
Unwashed and unseen
For every ruthless reason between
Hopeful birth and grateful death....

~ Pablo
(1/20/2014)