Instrumental Problem

It’s there

ideas flowing from gray matter

I can feel it, pulsing-wanting to be let out

How can I? When I can barely write what I think onto paper

from mind to pen  pen to paper connections lost

I wish it otherwise, let it fly

Change pens, I have tried

Change books I have tried

Type on slow keyboards, watch as my fingers fumble

what instrument conducts the mind

better than a pen?

 

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Haze

Blank yellow haze chased the blue skies away

Prevent Fires

Stick your head out the window.

What do you see?

Gleaming towers far away?

Towering green trees?

Or just a blanket of yellow haze,

That hangs lower when the heat comes,

Suffocating everything in smoke,

Beijing was bad,

Now its here in Vancouver,

Chasing the blue to Paradise

Fires burning, no joke.

Don’t smoke in trails.

Please prevent fires,

Hundreds are displaced.

Being Bitten

Bug bites are never fun

With the terrors of West Nile Virus,

Malaria, Tick fuelled terror,

I think a mosquito bite is fairly deadly,

Little red bumps that don’t itch,

But I scratch at them,

Then they swell into horrors,

The size of  toes,

Horribly red, and so annoying,

Yet I scratch and make them worse,

Four on my leg, one in the crook of my elbow,

Come on, I only wore dark pants!

Being bitten by a bug,

How could I go like this?

 

Footsteps

-For those who live in cruel cycles,  step upon step-

There are traces of feet,

Ditches made in the golden sand,

Curves from the sides,

Flattened sand, these feet have walked upon,

And we follow them,

 

Through history, through eras,

We have followed those before us,

Relinquishing the strongholds,

Of the wars past,

 

We have stepped, left steps, gave steps and took steps,

But, we never dream of those who walk the same burdened path,

Day after day after day,

Stuck in the same cycle,

Walking the same steps,

Through the steps of their ancestors,

Their pain is lost,

To the  cycle,

Until renewed by the footsteps of their children.