You stay where I live— no I live where I stay, as livelihood is doing in my head. Girls with pictures—pictures with girls, so few left in my phone. These are just running thoughts, as I’m chasing dreams; as a working mind in them. Skeleton hours; dead in the night, as it’s just another shift. But it slips in these grinding gears, like winter rains slipping on the road.
Under the cold whispering of previous night’s wind, reminded of a cold world out there. Be it truth to live by—amongst liars to speak such is dare, and quite frankly rare. But I’m none impressed by trends, tread your grounds carefully of where you walk. Don’t slip up on your feet, bruising your knees on the winter rains slipping on the road.
A side note of my love to rhyme... by second nature to plan the ending word to second line. Bringing it back this time to the starting rhyme, and referring to the second rhyme by the fourth line. Words slip easily off the tongue, dented like winter rains slipping on the road.
This poem inspired was inspired by my walk through shortcuts to work. Black wet tarmac, holes in every direction. Back and forth, cars roam and go. My breath visible in this morning cold. A sight in dilated eyes; towards the sight of the winter rains slipping on the road.
I fall too deep in the sleep Veer off too much I hear beeps My alignment is slighted All these other lights Shine in my eyes so bright Idolization has me in idles I still sly to the left of my Gin stirring in cupholders Killing all the evil grins outward The innards are in narratives of the lost road As I’m throwing it all out the window Eyes gleaming off on what’s shielded the heart Imitation of immortalized well beings and if I’s Steering the questionable mind My direction is reckless They call me by my meaning They call me on my time The answers are worth being Alive on an unknown road Named after the lost of scopes The road in front of me Oh how beautifully constructed The road in front of me Oh how purposely corroded
I saw it coming, The rickshaw was slowly halting And the driver wasn’t looking I shouted at him pointing my fingers towards the impending doom He twisted the handle of the bike, for nothing, we collided It was all too slow, I saw everything The distance between my arms and the concrete Being eaten up as the time ticked The merciless coarse surface of the road Lacerated by bare arm, on which I fell I didn’t feel a thing though
I picked myself up and looked at my friend, the driver He was still lying on the burning ground, groaning His white cotton clothes tangled up in the bike, obliterated I stood with nothing in my head until the wound swelled up, sizzling
I wrapped my bleeding arm under rim of my yellow shirt And walked towards the third of us, he was silent We stood on the hem of the road, watching men picking him up I studied his body from his head to his toes Dreading flesh spurting out or skin-piercing bones But I only saw bruises, wounds and his face full of fear Not of death but of disappointment from us We laughed after the pain peaked and plateaued I wish I could tell him the it was my fault Because I saw it all coming Before we were even on the road
I try to view as just a bump in the road Wish silently the right way to be shown I've been walking this path for so many years Other directions seem to disappear I sit and wait for opportunity's knock It doesn't Continue to walk.. Against wall my back is pressed Is this destiny or simply a test? I should be alarmed The darkness closing in It's nothing compared to the blackness within
What lies before us and what lies behind us are tin matters compared to what lies within us
If I have you And you have me Perhaps we can see All that we're meant to be
The road is long With cracks, ***-holes, and detours But we'll always be singing the same song Even that little thing reassures That we're on the right right road Less traveled, but it's home Even if it's not your typical abode It's ours, in this place we roam We'll go together, and call it home
- Jay M November 3rd, 2021
Go on your own road, even if it's the road less traveled. Leave your own footpath in the forest.
Trying to avoid the routes everyone else travels I take remote side roads and superfluous detours seeing sights unseen and grass that’s green until gravelly roads are met by tired tires breaking down in the middle of nowhere with nobody around to help I can see the freeway from here where cars flock together while getting to where they want to go.