That which is done can't be unseen
That which is unseen, may never be
That which may never be, such loss
That which is such loss, albatross
That which is albatross, you run
That which you run from, is no fun
That which is no fun, shouldn't be done
That which shouldn't be done, don't see
That which you don't see to, won't be
That which won't be, is total loss
That which is total loss, albatross
That which is albatross, is you run
That which you run from, is... wait what?
That which is wait what, give no buts
That which you give no buts, is done!
That which is done, ad nauseam

The grass is always greener
When the sun and moon share time
And if you wish to change demeanor
You'll learn this truth, I find

For I have rode the albatross
And dove deep into the sea
I have climbed with Sisyphus
And Hades set me free

In rock pools, tiny claws dual over colourful crowns
that were sent across the seas from the Gods.
The deadliest of gems sought for in crustacean kingdoms
like power.


Fish hide in bottles and swallow plastic shrimp,
while flotsam and jetsam decorate the shore;
toxic borders.


Albatross, guardian bird of the waters
we stopped looking up to you,
we stopped looking behind us to see if you were following
when we could fly higher, fly faster...
Jet power, metal wings, turbo engine.


Our good omens
Became measured.
Our superstitions
Became statistics.


I cry for all the canaries trapped in coal mines.
While we look for life on Mars
I feel dead on this ship,
but it's still floating, floating...

so want to be free of this burden
my personal albatross
a heavy bird with imposing weight issues
feathers of inconvenient proportions
and a growing stench that makes me ill
an unjust sentence
from a trial unheard
evidence given in secret
never tested in the light
my crime, trust
here’s a laugh
what if the bird resurrected
chose you as the new bearer
would it ***** things up
just a little
such an adornment
that would be justice
seeing you recite the mariner’s rhyme

@journeyofdays

The rushed days are slipping by
As I ride this eagle into the sky
Circling the mountains high
Never knowing the reason why
Those of us would pay to die
As the albatross sit and cry
All I can do is stand and sigh
Knowing the end is drawing nigh

It is like some steampunk nightmare
Where working overtime is a racket
When what was time and a half pay
On the day I get my check, I make less;
Some kind of tax bracket scam thing
Where working extra hours put me
Into another category and increased
The tax they use to grease the wheels
Of a bloated government that hates me.
Maybe that dates me and it isn’t true;
That things have changed and it is
No longer arranged that way. And maybe
The way things became done was that
I got it all back as a refund. But isn’t that
Redundant, that I had to pay it to them
To use it like per diem for their games?

The shame is that I chafed and did nothing
Besides ******* and frothing at the mouth.
It’s not like I could go south to Ensenada,
Buy a piñata that looked like Mickey Mouse,
It was just that the house always wins.
But I have to pay for my tiny, mundane sins.
Why don’t they? Why does it go on and on
And then the money’s gone and I pay more
The next time some fat ***** of a politician
Begins a petition to increase their slice
And nicely reduce ours to a pittance
So low there is no admittance to a show
Or enough to replace a car that is a wreck?

The albatross around my neck gets larger
As it I move farther from the day it died
Even though I have tried standing up straighter.
It’s The Grand Guignol Theatre that life is
And the strife is to not let it get me down;
To be the happy clown and not the sad one
In a game that was begun to make me lose.
I am not confused. I see it, but it seems
Even in dreams I get no kind of relief
From a governmental thief with immunity;
The pillages with impunity and teases
That he does what he pleases. Neener, neener
What in hell could possibly be meaner?

You are my home, I whisper
As I lay my head on her lap

She slides her fingers
Through my wavy mind

Hair of wind and obsidian
She sighs chasms

As I fall away from her body
She falls away from my words

And somewhere in that moment
We meet for the first time

Then-and-there, our true selves
Embrace in the eternal plane

Of all we were
Or ever could be

You are my home, I refrain
You are my home, you are my home…

As sleep descends like velvet curtains
I sail off like a paper boat

Across your sea

Catch my mooring rope
And come ashore with gentle tugs,
Sweetly, softly, nibble on my ear,
And run your fingers over my weathered sails.
Trace the notches on my docks,
For the places I’ve been –
Santorini last spring, Venezia,
Marseilles in the fall.
Get rid of the doubt that hangs
Like an albatross around your neck,
Capsizing fears sending tremors up my bows.
Simply breathe like the swelling tide,
And sing a sailor’s song,
The one about the Spanish ladies,
“For we will be jolly, and drown melancholy,
With a health to each jovial and true-hearted soul.”
Loosen my knots and we’ll drift out to sea,
Two travelers with one home.