Posted by: bryanboard | March 31, 2010

Island Longing

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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Responses

  1. 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.


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