first draft of a very rough and unfinished poem:
another hot spring day.
trapped in by car sorrounded by cars.
no steady beat on the radio.
no jazz in my heart.
its the feeling you get
when you realize you've been in the same spot for too long.
you have an uneven tan and a leg thats fallen asleep.
and the city now seems like some forgotten lyric to a once favorite song
driving you mad with its incompletion.
my soul needs to stretch its legs.
my car is tired of rubbing shoulders.
it needs a break from its social activity.
kerouac is calling.
nothing but open road and infinite sky.
charlie parker and beef jerky.
this, if i could choose, would be my destiny.
never one for domesticity
the simple life seems far too complex.
i want to be far away and lonely
my life, the only life that is wrecked.
so afraid of getting settled.
to look back on life.
older, balder, fatter.
and still this unsettled stirring of the soul.
i need to keep my roots like a potted plant.
stay portable.
unattached.
i want to be free.
and not just free in idealogy.
but literally free from all that shackles me.
free from all this hostility.
that sorrounds me on this road.
kerouac is calling.
my heart flutters its response.
un-anchor my feet.
let me fly away.
2:26 p.m. - 2005-04-02
Recent entries:
Awake in My Tiny Cage - 2014-11-03
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