Surrounded by mirrors,
And they’re all so empty.
Reminds me of times
That my mind felt nifty
‘nough keep me company,
And there wasn’t fear
Of dirty ol’ 30 gettin’ near;
But I guess age is simply
A number when your life’s
A mess, and everyday’s
A bummer.
How astray I’ve lead myself
from my self.
Been too damn concerned
About jobs and wealth —
Stressin’ about rent,
Credit scores, Retirement,
But sparin’ scarce a cent
On my own mental health.
I’m slowing down.
Everyone’s speeding up,
Chasin’ glitzy crowns
& gettin’ tipsy off
corporate cups —
Slavery to the mammary glands
of suit ‘n’ tie deities;
Worshipping that elusive dollar;
Whipped and poked
& the flame of their anxieties
‘neath them stoked by fear of failure —
Seems like Civilized Life’s allure’s
To lift off far from the ground,
Forget about soul and soil around.
But I want nothing of that
With but a rucksack on my back, hitchhikin’ out East to west, north to south.
Gonna sleep next to brooks
& big river mouths
And look to get starry-eyed slumber
All alone, blanketed by warm summer
In groves overgrown
As my dreams rove
As the brook does
Into the kaleidoscopic magic
of the Milky Way unknown.
Would it be strange at all
To live ‘mongst the trees,
Answer my bohemian call
& disappear with the breeze?
Be a Zen lunatic,
Dharma bum prayin’ on my knees,
Spontaneously yodeling the bebop
Of poems and art from my heart
On the sides of mountains;
Drumming sick Zimbabwe beats with sticks all over the land;
moon-maddened
With my toes in the sand;
Brew some green tea in the mornings, Silent ‘mongst the dew,
Lotus style, still as a praying mantis —
Hakuna Matata trances —
through with contributing
To the world’s industrial chorus.
The bearded bodhisattvas bard born anew.