"kilometers" poems
I was thousand kilometers away from you,
when a stranger bumped into me
he asked me where I was heading off
he asked me if I'm lost by the dead end
I remember answering that nothing to worry,
as I used to go solo and travel alone
'though he offered me help, I refused
it's the kind of kindness I can never repay
Years passed by until it comes to my senses,
how could I ever grasp his helping hand
while your fingerprints are still all over my skin?
while your voice still resonates down to my toes?
Youth was all we ever had, and
no matter how far I've come to walk away
every time I wander it goes directly to you
—I am running in circle
Jul 18, 2018
Jul 18, 2018 at 8:58 PM UTC
Deep down in the inhospitable gloom
Monterey Canyon welcomes an expectant mother
Unnoticed in the distance a whirring sound
and two parallel laser beams
Miss Cellania finds a nook
That instinct suggests is right
A place to nest and brood
A place to guard and wait
1.4 kilometers up a research institute
Guided the unmanned submarine
Correlated masses of data
Stared at live video feed
A unique event unfolded
Capturing such a moment
in this dark abyss
Clinging to a vertical rock
Her precious babies waiting to hatch
Her final duty to
Wait
Wait
Wait
Wait
Wait
Protect from predators and the icy cold
And so she began the
Inky black wait
Detached
Alone
The research crew returned later that year
Miss Cellania dutifully kept her vigil
They returned again month after month
Still she stubbornly stuck to the task in hand
The months turned to years
And still she protected her unhatched young
Clung to the same vertical spot
With nothing to eat
Alert, defensive
Motherly
Patiently waiting
Wasting away
Waiting
Waiting
Untill
F i f t y t h r e e m o n t h s l a t e r
Four and a half years
Finally her wait ended
With a flurry of independent life
Then death.
Aug 2, 2014
Aug 2, 2014 at 5:17 PM UTC
Earth's lower mantle
is composed of magnesium iron silicate.
The lower mantle is 2000 kilometers thick,
so magnesium iron silicate makes up 38 percent
of the Earth's entire volume
leaving it the most common of our minerals
but You,
You are not magnesium iron silicate.
You are painite, our rarest kind of mineral.
You are painite reflecting all that is good and bright in the world.
Dec 14, 2015
Dec 14, 2015 at 10:47 AM UTC
Your shadow is a confirmation,
that light has traveled 150 million kilometers,
only to reach the ground exactly where you stand.
© Barbara-Paraprem, 2015
Mar 30, 2015
Mar 30, 2015 at 6:15 PM UTC
I walked home
With my suit and tie
About a few kilometers from where I was
Looking straight ahead,
Because I'm scared of ghosts or "spirits"
I walked fast, brisk-walked;
Scared of people that might harm me,
I slowed down,
Walked normally
Then,
Slowly,
Slowly, and
Slowly,
I stopped.
Paused for a moment,
Why be scared of something you created?
Why be scared of your thoughts?
Why be afraid of scenarios you made?
Lastly,
I looked at myself,
From top to bottom,
I told myself,
"Suit and tie, baby"
Got nothing to be scared about, CONFIDENCE
Dec 14, 2014
Dec 14, 2014 at 1:42 PM UTC
I've drank a thousand beers
I've smoked a million cigarrettes
I've ate at least a hundred Twix bars
I've watched Breakfast at Tiffany's hours on end
I've flirted with every male waiter that brings me
unfulfilling dish after unfulfilling dish
I've bought weekly **** dark outfits
and I've spent my life savings
on beautiful MAC make-up and a new Legacy
and pumps I think you'd like
I've gotten my hair colored every color I can think of
I've tried being an apathetic punk, an upbeat cowgirl,
a wide-eyed polyanna, a harsh madonna, a fuck-you-feline,
an emotionally charged marilyn, and a classy Diane
I've memorized witty jokes, and roasts, and rivetting last lines
I've modeled and sang and became an athlete
I've played hard to get, I've played easy and teasy
And I've twirled my hair and crossed my legs
and learned to walk while swaying my hips
I've ran miles and kilometers and meters and
I've lifted weights and done zumba and yoga and hiked and biked and
****
There's no comfort and no getting to you.
Oct 3, 2012
Oct 3, 2012 at 1:10 PM UTC
“Two teaspoons of coffee, one teaspoon of sugar, and pour it right before it boils down”, my mother said smelling the coffee she is cooking to perfection. I stand there and wonder what scent Hamlet was smelling when he said “Something’s rotten in the state of Denmark”, I’m guessing it’s the same scent colonizing this house. I look at the ***** ceiling and start sniffing the air. My mother looks at me and says “your nose is nearing the skyline, keep it where your feet are. Men don’t like prideful women”.
I looked around trying to see what smelled so repulsive. My grandmother lit incense, my sister baked a fresh orange cake for celebration, my other sister splashed a few drops of the musk that the Arab man gifted us all over the house, and father held a stack of 500 Riyal banknotes to his nose.
The rich Arab that knocked on our door last week asking if we have an extra womb for sale is visiting again today. My mother prepared a hot bath for me an hour ago; she said I have to smell like freshly uprooted Baladi roses, so I soaked in the bathtub trying to figure out what is this repulsive scent I am smelling.
Right after I finished my bath I told my mother “something stinks”. Her reply was dragging me to the kitchen where she teaches me how to make coffee. I say “mother, nobody drinks coffee here”, she says “You need to learn how to properly make coffee to serve our sheikh some tonight. Remember, eyes on the ground”. I reply reciting the lesson she just taught me “Keep them where my feet are”.
I hear people in the city overlook what lies beneath their feet; a 16 year old city girl will never know what it means to have to walk 30 kilometers with a broken shoe in order to read one book. I guess farming taught me a thing or two about looking down. I remember reading before that African slaves were shipped to America to primarily work in farms, coffee and sugar farms to be exact. I realize now what this stink is. I look at my mother and tell her “I will not marry him. This ring reeks of slavery”. She looks at me in astonishment, and I reply reciting the lesson she just taught me “and pour it right before it boils down”.
Aug 25, 2018
Aug 25, 2018 at 7:18 PM UTC
pap
pap
pap
I can't breath
my stomach is bubbling
like hot cheese
on an fresh oven pizza
my legs feel skinny
I want to lean into a wall
the floor looks spinny
the wainscoting is squint
my vision is blurry
because...tears?
Why is there worry
in my middle?
I feel fine,
my mind is sound
this fear isn't mine
what’s it doing here?
What is this panic?
Fight or flight I understand,
but this is plain manic.
I need to go
at top speed
or maybe hide?
Either way, be freed
from this distress.
pap
pap
pap
Push someone over,
human shield that ****
reduce my exposure
to hyperventilation.
Shallow in,
shallow out,
I feel akin
to sprinting Mufasa
Pure distress
acute discomfort,
a proper mental problem. Nonetheless,
it’s strange to foresee the diagnosis.
It’s as if I’m watching
from someone else’s skin
as alligator clamps are botching
holding my physiology in.
A sunburn on my innards,
a paperweight within
you’d think I’d feel pride
for finally having something wrong.
Hypochondria being accurate
the years of inventing doom,
suddenly isn't aberrant
those fabrications had substance.
Or maybe all these thinks
are symptoms in themselves
after sifting through piles of shrinks,
maybe I can finally get some help.
pap
pap
pap
Look at my pretty framed prescription,
doctor certified, messy handwriting,
this will take some decryption...
don’t worry, take your time,
this pathoreaction won't go away.
I’m told desolation
is a temperament set to stay
until after eighteen simple payments.
I’m inclined to reject treatment
of drugs that fiddle with the mind
I’d rather stay present,
continue inconsistency.
I would like to try narration,
see how many kilometers I can recall.
I can deal with frustration,
so let’s talk about my childhood.
Public transit without destination
sends me on a revere,
an absence of crippling desperation.
I've found peace before
it was between yellow poles,
in the outside pocket
of a backpack on parole.
It smiled at me quietly.
pap
pap
pap
Apparently, it’s the small things
that help you deal with anxiety.
Jun 23, 2013
Jun 23, 2013 at 6:10 AM UTC
You descended into my soul so effortlessly, like dark blue dissipate into the muted periwinkle sky that kiss the hilltops of dew covered mornings.
Had there been but no measurement of the graceful manner in which your touch take a turn from skin to grasping onto organs locked behind the stern walls this may not be so difficult to comprehend.
Yet for the first time, the notion of numbers on a clock became irrelevant and I saw this beginning in gradients and neon bursts of color that illuminate all in its path.
For what can we track the depth of which we dive into oceans- with a ticking minute hand or the depth in which the opacity of our surroundings grow?
I caught you at midnight, I drowned in your essence like 500 kilometers below sea level, I admire you most at sun break, and I love you, how I love you, like the most effortless periwinkle blue.
Nov 16, 2015
Nov 16, 2015 at 8:55 PM UTC
I've been alone, waiting
for you
at home
I got no feel of the air no more
I turn off the radio
My ear sick of hearing love song all over the radio
I cannot find anymore
The zing we shared
Everything I think when wrong
Cause you are faking around me
Don't be afraid
I will superwoman
And
I'm gonna fly, fly, fly
million kilometers away from you
Nov 22, 2015
Nov 22, 2015 at 9:00 AM UTC
That I'm cute
Beautiful
Pretty
And I tell them that
It's okay that I'm not
Because I know I'm not
But I don't like being lied to
I know I'm not
Because I can't let tears
Drip down my cheeks
As they shimmer in the dim light
Of the movie credits
I sob until
My face is red and damp and puffy
And I'm clinging to your sleeve
And just crying so uncontrollably
That people sitting next to us
In the dark theater
Might glimpse over to see if maybe
I have a reason to cry so hard.
Does shehave cancer?
Is she missing a leg?
Did her crack-addict mother die when she was an infant?
Why is this bratty straight white blonde girl crying while watching Selma/Dallas Buyer's Club/The Help?
I have to brush my hair
Instantly
When I get out of the pool
In the summer
(Hopping from foot to foot of course
Because the sun has baked the concrete)
Because if I don't
It becomes a half-curly knotted mess.
And if I don't braid it directly after that
Then it dries
In resemblance to a Yield Sign
In a somewhat triangular form
And I'm chubby.
Not fat. It would be better if I were fat.
If I were fat then things would be
Proportionalish
But instead I'm just
A 5'2 and 3/4" girl
With DDs that no one wants
Because ***** don't count when you're chubby"
And baby fat that lounges on my stomach
No matter how many kilometers I row.
My fingers are too small for my hands.
My glasses make my eyes look huge.
My lips are forever chapped.
My cheeks are overly red.
My eyes are too dark to be pretty
And I know it.
I know all of it.
I've lived in my body for longer than you have.
So don't lie to me.
Don't tell me that I'm cute
Beautiful
Or god forbid pretty
Because I really
Really
Hate being lied to.
Feb 1, 2015
Feb 1, 2015 at 11:09 PM UTC
Five months on the front
Between Arras and Albert
Both sides hunt
For the other
Redcoats and Frogs side by side
Putting away their hate
Both filled with pride
To fight
Drain the Fritz of their resources
Push them back as far as they could
But the enemy observes
And are waiting
Huge frontal attack, approached on foot
Ordered by General Haig
The Germans stayed put
And killed from afar
July 1st was day one
November 18th was the last
When all the guns
Were dead
It was the bloodiest battle anyone saw
Over one million deceased
No mortal law
Ruled here
13 Kilometers were gained
Using tanks and heavy gear
Reserves were drained
Yet no one cared
Friends, fathers, husbands, brothers,
Fought and lost their lives
For the children, sisters, wives and mothers
Who were left behind
Only gravediggers make money here
Jan 24, 2014
Jan 24, 2014 at 12:28 AM UTC
This is ancient land, this is
hallowed ground, this is
21 kilometers worth of tunnels.
Blood stops flowing after death
because the heart is no longer beating;
no longer forcing blood to gush through veins and arteries and vessels.
It gets lazy, becomes stagnant.
Slowly slides down to the
lowest point on the body; creates a
reddish purple discoloration on the skin
similar to a bruise, but not quite the same thing.
This is what I imagine the fifth level of the catacombs to look like:
a reddish purple discoloration
spread across my mother’s back.
This is what I see when I close my eyes and rub them a bit too hard for a bit too long. This is what I see when I look into a hole in the stone walls that is big enough to fit an infant. This is what I see in the reflection of the Trevi Fountain. This is what I see when I try to remember the shape of my mother’s sleeping body as it curled in on itself on top of a flat hospital mattress.
The color of death is not black, is not white. The
color of death is the color of blood: the way it looks
through the skin after having
hours and
days and
weeks to
slowly slink down into the
lowest bend of the body.
This is the reddish umbra of the earth that the
eclipsed moon hides behind.
This is my body given for you.
Take and eat.
Do this is the remembrance of
me.
Jan 26, 2016
Jan 26, 2016 at 6:40 PM UTC
Robot Kills Man at Volkswagen Plant in Germany
"BERLIN — Automaker Volkswagen says a robot has killed a contractor at one of its production plants in Germany. A spokesman for VW says the man died Monday at the plant in Baunatal, about 100 kilometers (62 miles) north of Frankfurt. Heiko Hillwig said Wednesday the 22-year-old was part of a team that was setting up the robot when it grabbed and crushed him against a metal plate." (source MSN, 7/2/15)
It begins . . .
Jul 2, 2015
Jul 2, 2015 at 8:53 AM UTC
Running from a demented Ex,
Several kilometers to a lone cabin,
She travelled.
She was feeling comfortable
Although lonely in this forest world.
A glass of juice in hand,
She steps out on the porch.
Halting in shock,
For on the edge of the foot path,
Waits a big grey wolf,
With intense gaze fixed on her.
"Shoo!" She tells it.
But flinch, it doesn't.
Retreats into the cabin she does,
To bolt all windows and doors.
Soon, the wolf loses interest and leaves.
Come night, she undresses to bath.
But in her bedroom doorway,
Appears the grey wolf.
Caught in surprise, she gasps and falls.
And in her shock, she watches it
Morph into a man.
Not just any man, a breathtaking one.
She's hypnotized by the sight of him.
He approaches, carries her,
In his arms to the shower
Where he makes passionate love
To her against the wall.
His fangs sinking into her shoulder
In the ****** of the ****** passion,
Until after a mind-blowing ****** she blacks out into unconsciousness.
Several hours later,
Her consciousness she regains.
On her bed she wakes.
She remembers. But perhaps,
It was all a dream.
But the soiled paw-print on her rug,
And the aching pain on her shoulder
Revealed otherwise,
Until the distant howl of her new
Lover, reaches her from the forest,
Making her shudder with a new craving need to be made love to-
Again!
Oct 21, 2016
Oct 21, 2016 at 6:14 AM UTC
It begins here.
In the percolating silence
that lingers behind gritted teeth--
the loose threads on denim jeans
that only ever gets cut,
the landfall that prays
for minimal casualties
except each body bag
contained pieces of your heart
he could no longer mend --
a slightly-timed confession.
The end begins in the way
the essence of the beginning
becomes foreign.
We know about length measurements
from school,
but kilometers or feet
do not weave the tapestry
in spaces between two people.
Distance,
we forget,
surpasses the cataract-like
tunneled notion of
merely its quantitative value.
I see it in the way you've forgotten
how to make me laugh.
How you've got a grip
on my hand
and yet
I'm still reaching out.
How we walk on eggshells
around each other,
and traded in words
for daggers
or words
that didn't matter
enough to land on ears
that swell to listen.
Ticking bombs,
deep sighs,
feeble temperament
waiting for the softest nudge
to topple the tower,
and you’ve predicted
the catastrophe
long before a tandem
of hot flesh
had turned cold,
and bruised,
and hurting.
The galaxies
in our eyes,
rusty,
no longer colliding
into sweet solace—
you’ll realize that
you’ll always be in the
losing end
where you flaunt your
vulnerability
in plain sight
like a mannequin
on the other side
of the looking glass.
Let me stay for a bit.
Let me mourn what’s passed
and cherish
whatever’s left.
Jul 10, 2018
Jul 10, 2018 at 6:24 PM UTC
i hope one day you learn to look into the corners and see that the webs were not cobwebs brought about by the lengthy days we had. they are strings painstakingly spun through the tough yet beautiful years that we have, all of those keeping me tethered to you. i hope you learn to read between the letters and the lines, that each one was made as a puzzle for you. i hope that one day you will learn that i cared about you as much as you cared about me. now that it's all over, i hope that you learn that my love does not lie in the open. you know how secretive i am. i would not leave the thing i value the most out in the open, just for people to try and take it from me. no, this is why you thought i never cared. i hope you bothered looking under your pillow or in the books i lent to you. it is in the ruffled sheets of our nights and mornings together. i slipped my smile for you in every single one of the pages i dog-eared for you. i hope you found it at 2 am, in the mornings with me. it was in my sleepy kisses and the way i huddled close against you. i hope you felt it in the way i ran back to you, every single time, when my rain poured only for you. i hope you hear it in all of my playlists about you that i never told you about. i hope you heard it in my giggling to the silliest things you said, and i hope you unraveled it in the way every single night i hugged you good-bye. i hope you felt it in our goofy dancing under the stars, eighteen kilometers apart. not far, but not close enough. i hope you realized it was in my tears, till the very last time i tried to fight for us. i hope you felt it in the way i gripped your hand as we walked a moon-lit street, and i hope you remember it in the way i asked for your embrace for the last time. to be perfectly candid, i was so nervous that night, but the way you held me, as it always did, calmed me down. i will always remember how you smelled that night, like sunshine, and you walked like it too. you brought me home that day, and i asked you one last time if you still loved me. i hope you heard it in my silence, anxious yet relieved, when only nothingness filled the car on the way to my front porch. i wondered why the silence was deafening even when there were no words uttered, even though my world was crumbling down under the tires of your car.
Sep 13, 2018
Sep 13, 2018 at 7:31 AM UTC
Walking is the king of exercises
It suits different age groups
And is useful for both genders
Its results are unbelievable wonders
Walk for five kilometers a day
And keeps the doctor away
You need not run like a race
But can walk at your own pace
Walking relieves your hypertension
And keeps your heart in good condition
It is a must for a diabetic
And is possible for a paralytic
It improves your vitality
And enhances your longevity
You can walk preferably in the morning
Or at least in the evening
Walking removes your bad cholesterol
And saves the consumption of petrol
Why do you eat carcinogenic fast foods in a pub?
Why don’t you join a walkers’ club?
Dec 29, 2010
Dec 29, 2010 at 10:24 PM UTC
We headed south that night
Right down the highway towards our new life
Sunny Olde California here we come
Everyone wants to be in Cali
Me, I don't understand why
The sun's too hot
It's so crowded
Too many famous people
What's so great about California?
Why does everyone want so badly to move to Cali?
But now I understand why we left
Why we left our comfortably modern house in Vancouver
Vancouver had everything we needed
All the love and support we needed
Everything we needed was there in our small little town
But now we are moving to Sacramento
One thousand four hundred and thirty seven kilometers
Fourteen hours of driving
I finally understood why she did it all
She was taking us away from him
So he wouldn't hurt us anymore
When the court date came
We all had to testify
I wasn't sure what I was testifying against
But somehow I answered and answered til I broke down
After my endless crying
They gave up on me
I wasn't fit to testify she'd say
But I understand why
I was too young to understand but now I do
He came in all sunshine and lollipops
We all thought he was going to stay
Stay forever and never leave
He left in handcuffs and bruises
We never saw him again
Until my mother dragged us all down to the jailhouse
He was leaving...for good
The apologize really didn't matter to me
See I didn't understand, but now I do
I understand why everyone wants to be in Cali
You become like an ant
You are invisible
Jul 24, 2013
Jul 24, 2013 at 2:18 PM UTC
I am from the old world
From over the waters
I am from old houses
Majestic, kings and Celtics
I am from Mountains and Lakes
Mozart, Music, Stereotypes
I am from red-white-red
And what once was a monastery
I am from skiing, snow and sunshine
From Schnitzel and pasta
I am from almost Espresso
And people speaking fast
I am from languages
(Servus, Srečno, Ciao)
I am from a house with a mom
And a brother, little me
I am from a family with 4+21
I am from a field, tough but still a passion
And rivers with the moonlight
I am from climbing
And the top of the world
I am from kilometers and kilograms
And from long nights
I am from Rap
And the school where it’s never quiet
I am from a mother
That says goodbye with the wings of a bird
And white roses
I am from a dad that helps me keep focused
On the important parts of life
I am from singing people
That I left over the clouds
Far away
Oct 22, 2013
Oct 22, 2013 at 9:30 PM UTC
~
i once swore that i would never pray again.
when i painfully stripped myself of faith
all those years ago,
i took an oath
that I would only treat
the expanse of the universe
as nothing but barren space.
but now, i've lost you,
and i have come to resent this belief.
or, rather,
my lack thereof.
do not misunderstand me.
i do not wish to go back
to the life where I had to offer
each step i take
to a supposed almighty man --
a man who,
with all his power and greatness,
allowed me
to be loved so poorly in the past.
but now, i've lost you,
and i spend each waking moment
staring at the empty space beside me.
this bed used to be an altar
where i could lay my flesh and bones
and you would treat me like
the holy grail itself.
now, the emptiness stares right back
with its mocking eyes,
harshly rubbing salt into the open wound
that sits on my heart.
there is nothing there anymore, yet so much lingers.
now, a part of my soul is hollow.
when there was you,
i sent a piece of my heart
on a journey across the sea
without knowing if i would
ever get it back.
i did it simply because i
submitted to this love
in its entirety.
with all the kilometers of land
and water it stretched over,
all of the sacrifices it demanded,
all of its impossibilities --
i revered it blindly.
but now, i've lost you,
and yet again,
i am stripped of faith.
this time, however,
i was robbed.
i did not wish for this to happen.
now, there is a piece of my heart that wanders
through places i will never know.
there is nothing more for me to do
but desperately send out
silent screams
into the void
like prayers,
hoping that my words
echo through the desolate universe
and across our great divide —
even if, by the time they reach you,
they arrive in mere whispers.
if you can hear me,
i am still here.
and i can feel you out there.
please hold that piece of my heart as an offering, and carry it with you until we meet once more, at the edge of eternity.
thank you for reminding me what devotion feels like.
May 4, 2022
May 4, 2022 at 2:52 PM UTC
I woke up from a bad dream trembling under the strength of deformed uncertainty. On this quiet, sweet night I dreamed that my mask is melting. Nakedness beneath terribly surprised me, I felt bare while disgustingly beautiful pink skin stuck out from beneath magnificently repulsive layer of white chalk which ran down my face in the beans. In single moment thousands fluorescent drops of days passed before my blue eyes and thousands of miles of pictures mixed as psychedelic assemblage. I was hoping that I would for ever float on silk of big circus tent, the place between sleep and wake and that I will never be touched by reality pedestrians or nightmare riders. Returned from a long journey dedicated to the cult of friendship riding on a brass beast sentenced to a breakdown. Return is a successful escape from the curious conductors who wear chains and key, maneuvering between spacecrafts driven by hesitative captains, sliding in between hot geysers of alcoholic delirium on the crystal surface of Arctic ice. Sweet and bitter is the view over always the same icy peaks that cast always different shadows, while the foamy rugged hillsides are blurred with the haze of responsibility, sunny with the light of honesty, depending on the morning. I rub my eyes while my mask, of which I am very grateful, still persistently covers the lines of my face and I wonder whether kilometers traveled last night were part of a dream or reality?
Mar 23, 2013
Mar 23, 2013 at 12:04 PM UTC
The distance between us is no longer defined by kilometers or miles,
The oceans don't keep us apart.
Physically we are right by each other, but I've never felt further from you than now.
What is it that separates us so much?
What is it that makes this so hard?
Now we re not continents apart, yet opposite me you still don't understand.
How can I show you what I have seen,
How will you experience what I felt.
There is so much I want to share with you
And so much you don't comprehend.
Our experiences have brought us to this point,
They have shaped who we are now.
Between you and I, the difference is so vast
and that gap has only grown.
I do not think I can show you
The world as I see it now.
I don't think I can help you understand
Why I feel the way I feel
And why I act the way I act.
My experiences have brought me here,
And your experiences have brought you there.
I look across this chasm with grief,
Saddened we have no bridge.
This rift of misunderstanding will continue to grow
We may never understand each other again.
Mar 1, 2017
Mar 1, 2017 at 10:24 PM UTC
you haven't even left yet,
but i'm already missing you.
6 773 kilometers,
Thats an ocean to pass through.
its only been 8 months,
but it feels like my whole life.
now you're going home,
and we've run out of time.
maybe our paths will cross,
or maybe we won't meet again.
maybe we'll write more books,
or maybe this is our chapters end.
these months have been good,
you became my closest friend.
but now my heart is broken,
and i'm not sure that it will mend.
i don't want you to go,
sure we can call and we can text.
but its not the same,
cause who knows when ill see you next.
Jun 29, 2019
Jun 29, 2019 at 3:23 PM UTC
we left the hills of lebanon
through the fields
first poppy and then through the taller flowers
i need a new shirt
with a taller collar and french cuffs
we simply must
travel to damascus
80 kilometers over the mountains
wheels between villages
barren spaces and us
needing new shirts
on that last hill
we could see the whole thing
holy **** man look
we can see everything
all the seas and **** like that
****
...
you know i think i might need some new socks too
Mar 2, 2013
Mar 2, 2013 at 2:57 PM UTC