Predict the Past

Words are moving fast

Faster than I can understand

Competing with the speed of light

Into my head with danger

No understanding needed

People blast out obscenities

With fog horn blasts

Worries about the future

Trying to predict the past

I am not moved quickly with emotion

But in this almost steady flowing river

Into the ocean running

Mud filled water 

Sludge

Filling greater waters

To which I barely understand 

So I await more news

Uncertainty 

Certainly 

It will come

What was new

Will quickly become the past

Advertisements

4 Minutes

In 4 minutes I will attempt

To write words

Strung together with

Some meaning

My eyes are stuck to the screen

Gleaming

Written in an attempt to say

What I have postponed along the way

Returning to ritual

Feels good

Yet not unusual

11:57

11:57 The clock reads

Momentary and sedentary

I return to the road

We travel so often

Yet so unfamiliar

Unusual

The hope of unity

A collection of ideas

Almost perfect

But perfect in its imperfections

It has beauty despite moments

Of Lack of direction

Proceed on our journey

To find people

To share moments and peace

This is my idea to bring

Muddle by Technology

Muddle and confusion

Marry the mellow quiet

With ruptured sounds of a digital empress

Defiant of the status quo

Holding on to the last of what was

What we used to know

The cell phone rings

Elbows locked in admiration

Swing around the border

Of the new order

Tech first feeling second

Defiant I remane

But I wonder what the world would be

With no technology

Would we be more advanced

If we were connected by glance

Instead of digital connection

A tacit code of life

Implied by technical lines

We are breakable and weak

In the eye of technology

Return to the Pages

Return to the pages

Settled in and getting away

Too long

Can get contagious

I don’t write

Due to lack of inspiration

Rather I am not writing

Because it has become

A lack of motivation

Unfamiliar sensation

But it is a coal covered jewel

Untouched as the days continue

First the idea sprouts

From mind to fingers

Scatters across the keys and onto the page

I resurrect the beast  laying dormant

Back to writing and enjoyment

With rest comes ideas

Ideas with time

And now it is time to return

To the pages

To the writing burn