Thursday, July 14, 2016

Here In The Summer And Spring Of Sixteen

I woke without alarm this morning
The cat saw me rejoin after bathroom and purred
And with coffee made, I rejoined again
With You, whom secrets into anonymity

The grass was cold walking in the dew
The Sun is warmly rising
And the world, too, awakens here at 9 o'clock

The deck seems a little cleaner in the morning...
The stillness looks a little more peaceful...
The highway sounds a little slower...
Though everyone is traveling at the speed of life
With their spaceships and light drives
This morning, and every morning,
              here in the Summer and Spring of sixteen.

The clutter calls, "You need more crap."
So I go to it like a lover, and make a hole.
The vacuum becomes so intense,
                it fills in with more crap, soon after.
But it looks cleaner, and I remind myself I have a long ways to go,
And try to purchase less, not that I actually have much money.
I call my dollars, stretch to myself, for a reason
When I'm out chasing pavements.

I'm such a rebel, no?  Trying to buy less crap, Indeed!
Is it so much earning what one works for, as
being happy with what one has... because

Who really invents their own lightbulb but a poet.
Whom really builds their own lawnmower or produce(s).
But we love things, and use people
    And that's why the world is screwed up, and climate change is real.

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