
Tip Toe Tip Toe past the crying girl at the dirty bar with the meter maid vibe and the dog catcher karma
And the god damned world at large where people live on a garbaged street pile and politicians sell Trump-flavored shit to big Pharma
Find find find please find a market where some soul is still living and principles are more valuable than the lies we hear
It may be found on a street corner bar where sorrow is met with the generosity of a nondescript kind stranger buying you a beer
Or a beach cove tent where waves pop loud in the middle of a thunderstorm of love making and passion
London London London public house with dark oak corners and a tattered copy of Dylan Thomas while sporting a late ’60’s fashion
Calling out the past in a sea of strangers and finding yourself alone with just you and your soul and its secret ways and means
In the middle of a hot summer baseball game when you don’t care they are losing and the flat warm beer tastes like an American Mark Twain dream
And once you find “it”, that “it” that is you, on a Dostoevsky page, or in a cold leaky tent in a wilderness area, or flat on your ass
Or a million other days or places or people- you want to explore more of “it” and when you are in one of those places not built of brass
You know that life is here and is so fleeting like a rain drop or a the way light reflects off a face as the ice cream cone disappears
And the day is a setting sun, a soulful sound of a long time spinning lost in the wind aging sphere
I could be in error here, but I feel negative vibes & can sense that somebody is pissed. Very well written John.
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Hey Roland, I always appreciate your comments and your insight into what I write. Thank you so much for taking the time. It seems like you really connect with the same things I’m thinking. Once again thank you my friend.
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