Saturday, September 3, 2016

A Saturday afternoon in the Park

could we maybe meet up at the park,
sit side-by-side on the grass with our backs against a tree,
I’d like to tell you things.

I’d like to tell you about the torment in my spirit begotten by the daily grind,
living a lie, it’s a sham, these ‘busy’ hours we’re enslaved to so willingly,
how I shudder for those feeding the escalated importance ascribed by masters
playing a disturbing game of chess with your life and mine.

I’d like to tell you about a darkness in me into which I delve,
I don’t fear it anymore, nor can it do me harm,
here I feel the hell through which you have walked,
where I’ve crucified myself into addiction,
where I found the answers to both truths and lies,
picture source:
it’s daylight that singes my senses
and disturbs my rationale with its clamour and glare,

let me feel the strength of your presence,
reassure me of your beating heart,
comfort me in the sinking silence,
fade away from all passers-by,

could we sit here until the darkened hours
blot out the assiduous motions of the day,
shadows meeting the simplicity of night,
be together in the deepest, most natural, way,

could we?


  1. Leaning back against a tree is a lovely connection, this longing is goodness manifest, shared and makes us whole.

  2. Indeed...I know you have someone else in mind...but I was right beside you on this one!

  3. We, my wife and I, have been living in the same house for 28 years, When we moved in there was Birch tree, well dead, across the street. Yesterday someone pushed it over, snapped the carpenter ant holed out trunk. My first thought was 28 years it took for someone to lean against the thing--my second was whoa that would make a huge didgeridoo.

    Odd isn't it what can be accomplished leaning against trees?

  4. Arlene and I too had a tree where we could escape

  5. Te envio mi blog de poesias por si quieres darle un vistazo

  6. on this empty park bench,
    the silence sounds out my heart,
    then a passing bus,
    or a cloud,
    or a pretty girl,
    the potato in my pocket,
    looking for you,
    i find me,
    looking for me,
    i find you,
    everything else,
    cold sweet salty spray from the sea,
    and my impossibly blue eyes,
    scanning the horizon.

  7. It was my birthday this long weekend and I spent some it in the darkness taking inventory of my past and how I arrived here. Only my desire to be somewhere else makes me suffer. Will you sit beside me?

    1. I'll sit beside you, it would be a privilege.

    2. Yes - but only because you like the "Cowboy Junkies".