Road
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it all seems familiar
but strange at some point
the road
a ride i know
a walk not known
you'll never know
not untill you've been there
but how do we get there
when in a sudden
been on this road for long
the only drug i get addicted to be riches
something that stitches time
gathers together pieces of our lives
patches and tenders inches to success
as i be getting'm all in excess.
A body with hands like maps
Allow me to trace your highway veins
Intertwine your fingers in mine
And learn my roads, my cliffs
My body yearns to know your story
A whistling in the air,
powerful, thirsty, compelling one to stare.
A shift of a gear, and away he flies,
a blur in one's eyes.
A scream of power, of love unseen,
as he rushes down the mountain ravine.
As I dwell on this long and lonely road
One everlasting mile away from home
You see me on the bench, jacket zipped
Book open in my lap, my head dipped
Poetry in motion,
Take a road on the jet-black highway,
You are about to embark on a new adventure,
The scorching sun hits the surface as the heat waves rise,
The eagles fly high above the flower-decorated cacti,
when he walks into the room,
there is no room,
only people
there are no people,
only faces and names
only voices and thoughts
his nonexistent pen
glides across the convolutions of his brain
It was nothing but a blurAmidst the insecurities of life Hasty decisions Jumping into conclusions Hiding blemishes Closing gaps In betweenBroken roadsPerfectioning one another's flaws
Eyes were like a window
Transparent as glass
Revealing nothing but the slate concrete and ruffled grass beyond them
Gripping his sky-clad hand hard,
We trekked down the quiet road
Flying down the South-East highway,Saw some blue eyes facing my way.Push my foot down lower, lower,But my car seems to go slower.To catch those blue eyes is my goal,Yet to do so will take a toll.
we plan for futures that aren’t even guaranteed.
each day, looking forward to what the sunset will look like,
Brush strokes over a canvas,
Waves, like roads,
Like branches on a tree.
An old car, papers balanced on the dash,
The weaving highway a snake,
Glints on the horizon of sunset-red.
As we drift west 'neath cotton wisps and buttes,
Cerulean and pearly white combine
To mock at spinach-green and call it mute,
And point it to the highway's yellow line.
I neither love nor care
what they say about me
I am my own
and my own is me
I am the one who will
decide where I go
I am the one who is
traveling this road
Weeks on end this fog has not lifted
It blurs my vision and
my mind's nerves are racing
crashing, connecting, circling
tangling itself with this dense fog.
Today, the skies are gloomy
I have memories attached
to curves in the
road, moments encapsulated by
long strentches of highway. They
return briefly to existence as
I travel them;
anxiety trembling in
Walking down the street,The cold and cracked pavement,Avoiding the glares of the people that we see everyday.Just the same old faces,In the same old places,Doing the same damn thing,
A girl walks the perfect road
Sun shining bright like always
Day after day
Sadness does not exist
For she knows not what it is
She continues to walk this perfect road
walk continously
walk endlessy
and see the diverging paths
there are too many too count
for they show the entirety of man
some lead to pain
others to darkness
and some to love
The country road is a dusty strip of asphalt extending farther than the eye can see
The edges are frayed, crumbling
Cracks pepper the road, a few randomly tarred over
Little to see in any direction
keep running.
Volando, volando
donde se ve todo
pero no vives nada.
Volando, volando
Paso por amigos
Pero nunca conozco
Volando, volando
Me trae la educación
Pero de un vuelo no sirve.
In the dark of night and day,
Forgotten, ghosts cry their mournful song,
The ashes in their billowing plumes sway
In the dark of night and day.
I thought I knew the road and where it leads;
I came upon the fork and felt so sure,
Until the trees in shade began to tease;
My confidence was shook, I closed the door.
My heart is closed and locked, I am afraid;
The Path
Bright Red sweating wagon
With its dirty dusty decay from the long journey
Treading in the muddy dark land
Carrying natural pieces of the past, in its rigid black rubbery tires
