left of the city

the city is not natural…

I cannot find closure within it…

imageedit_5_8548817995in here nature feels…ill fit…

my tail does not wag the same

swagger comes with shame

there is sewage beneath my feet

all envisioned voices are in full retreat

isolation…well dressed, more refined

there is a growing sense of being ambushed by steel

to lay outside the box…it appears easier to define

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Under the Weather

It is a cluttered step I take…under the weather.

The wilderness calls to me…

Reminding me…’I am the lost soul.’imageedit_14_2355741925

I have surrounded myself with other wanderers.

A circle of seekers…under the weather.

None of us deceived by items we do not need.

But for some there is no tourniquet for the bleed.

THEY take sips from sorrow’s cup.

And, only when the wilderness calls…enough is enough.

Under the weather lies the love.

Where the Light and Dark Meet

broken trail 1

Where the light and dark meet…

a hidden trail.

And, it is there, I believe I am free.

My notions and ideals enhance under the ambiance of flowing greenery.

Life is embellished in…sights unseen.

But of course, I am not a consultant to nature.

An adviser to the woods, I will never be.

Still for a fleeting moment…I am free.

broken trail 2
Freedoms just another word for nothing left to lose…J. Joplin

Wandering in the 4th Dimension

There is no moisture to the air…

All movement brittle.

Illumination is covered in droplets of shade.

A dance so bountiful.  That any lapse in time…seems to come out from the middle.

Black and white; a difference of transient motion… set upon my mind’s eye.

And, how it envisions too much…Or, just a little.

Another Young to be Had

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I’ve wandered east, I’ve wandered west,

through many a weary way;

But never, never can forget

The love of life’s young day.

 

Jeannie Morison