Nowhere towns and haikus
There are no such things
As little nowhere such towns
Provided men live
Pointless words
If I knew everything
I'd leave
So it's better I do not
That way there is still purpose to books
And plenty of imperfect words
To ponder and read
En work
Sometimes we learn
To work for work
Or self or style
Or living or wage
And yet
The best work is done
For something above and beyond
What is learned in due age
And is most difficult to change
Is to convince others that
Its for them when and when
It has become your own aim
And drug of sorts
Obviously (to self)
A concrete, solid, tanka
Concrete is this thing
Which man himself made out to
In blocks call himself
A riverbed once dredged king
And so he built up a lie
Equal honor
You can make a living
Off others
And their living
And that is fine
Provided
That their standard of life
Doesn't suffer for you
Or as always
You can make yourself a life
Off yourself and your own
Provided that you
Are indeed and endowed truly
With a skill most true
Which is you
This also can be an equally honorable thing too
This us, escape
I pray
Not to be carried
Or transported
Though I do clearly love
The good escape
My dear
But I and me
Desire more than just be
For either a minute or few
(Not enough)
To properly express this desire
Of we
Saria
Steps and pages (turn)
Days come
And days go
And walking walks
And steps unfold
Before you as
Each day is sung
And each story turns
With gray pages fold
And you are young
Until you're old
For as days come
So also are told
This we of time
And of timeless hold
For days stretch out
But time
This time
It always fails to heat and expand
And in turning turns
Cold
New coffee
White steam
On a black lake
Seeps into the air
With a hopeful white
And in leaving this
These little trails behind
Screams into nostrils alive
Be awake
You survive
Sometimes a heart
Sometimes a heart
Speaks more fluently than words
And in later looking back
And truly listening
You begin to hear
Not so much the phrase
But the sound once unheard
For we make noises when we are young
Before we can speak true, and truly
This I've since heard
Not quite adults
Shaken are the feet
First always away from home
And on their own
Learning most of all
Their own time
Their own responsibility
And their own sense of self
To which both remove
And to keep
Such children are still children
Even if to many eyes, indeed
This is not what is seen
There are no experiences
Only mistakes and investments
Think
Ridges, a tanka
A vision is both
What you see as others pass
And what you can see
Beyond the normal hues of
This life in a valley here
The unchild is adult
To simply earn
So that others will serve
Is to deny one form
Or another
Of that which is most difficult to do
To try and grow
To return into knowing
The ways of balance before
Which your childhood self
May have actually adored
But now
You're an adult
With a credit care
And believe me
That freedom to suddenly exercise
Without exercise
Is what will be most felt
How to unsee
The strongest male gaze
Is actually not my own
Though I do try
And respect whole heartedly
Those kind and kind of eyes which know
In their bouncing way
Where to keep life in focus
On the brick
On the sea
On the sky above
And not on that which is between
The knees
The unsky, a tanka
The grayest skys turn
And in an almost greeting
Look down on the earth
And its populous therein
Just to see us frown once again
Uninspiring speech
Steady feet
In step with life
Move forward in ways
Which other sets of eyes
Either admire or hate
And that is why
I agree with the take
That people going nowhere
Always have
Something to say
Be less stagnant is life
Its more the living that way
Unshaken sound
The idea alone
That someone elses creation
Can move us in being
Time and space beyond their living
Is rather crazy to me
And yet I can still think of one
Such other composition of man
Which brings my sailboat to bear
On this great see of memory
And when I hear it I am barely
Afloat
So judge not, lest you sink
Silly self