Waves roll against the shore
Echo in the backwaters of my mind
Fading now into the drone of cars
Rushing to nowhere fast
The smell of brine in the air
Pushed aside by drifting coffee from the breakroom
A gentle sunset on the sound
Bleeds into fluorescent glare and insistent monitor glow
Too long has the heart been from home
Settling into monotone existence
After Technicolor sights of dream come to life
Soul and sand merge
Both pulsing to a hidden heartbeat
Felt by few
Listened to
By even fewer
I place my stethoscope to the ground
And find the beat
Of my own existence
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Yo, Dude…. I think I (We) have waited long enough for a followup. Those of us dying in our own mental barrage of useless verbage kinda need the infliction of someone else’s ideas occasionally to keep things interesting; if not mairginally phenomenal. At least in my own world of the Id. Hint hint. New year, wake up. At least post some pictures. A picture is worth a 1000 words some say. If they ever say “Lady Gaga”, none of them could be printed, but that’s the cynic in me. Death to pop, rap, an hip hop. Let the classics reign. And of course, anything by Jeff Wayne.
By: Robert on January 1, 2011
at 1:46 pm