I Am a Wanderer

Reads: 522  | Likes: 0  | Shelves: 0  | Comments: 0

Status: Finished  |  Genre: Memoir  |  House: Booksie Classic

I am a Wanderer... along with her, amidst the blur... I am a Ponderer... I’m fond of her, but some bond has stirred our lives and surprised me with these curves I’ve had to swerve to avoid. How life has toyed with and left amiss and devoid of the bliss... I’m annoyed how I’ve missed some things, how numb brings a hollow that just a kiss could thumb away.. I come and I follow... I’m dumb and I wallow in this crumb that I swallow to not notice and that I piss away and decide that I’d rather hide. My pride is so deep, inside where I keep it. It is it’s own reward and I reap it... for I’m the one who sowed it, though I never showed it. It’s my donut and coffee, my wake-up-call. It’s a tone-up karate and a shake-up-ball... to begin my make-up-crawl onto a distant shore. A persistent chore for an insistent goal, a reward for my soul. It’s the price to afford that I stole... and now, I owe to a Lord of Hope that I’ve ignored through dope and flowed over the edge... even though it glowed bright, I wedged it in a hole and dredged it with soap to try and cope with the lump of coal of pity... On this ledge, looking out over this city, ready to jump. This clump I’m seeing, a dump of beings, a heap of people... with a new church and steeple.. a new God to pray to.. but, my engine blew a rod today... So, I must plod on or nod off, like a sawed off shotgun... I thought of hot fun, as just the one, alot of sun... then it’s all numb... and I’m left with that little crumb of stale, old bread... it’s pale mold has instead replaced my old head, where the dead me lay... that’s when the bed faded away... and I began to say, “THIS is Where the Pavement Ends... THIS is What Makes Us Friends... The Future of Them, Us, Of the Whole Mixed Up Fuss... Depends on US.” So... Trust me... my lust leads into the light... away from this blight that decays in our sight and replays day and night and stays here in this gloom... it preys on whom lets it... It sprays it’s fumes as it displays it’s plumes... it has shown me... am I the only? that gets it? or just to admit? ... instead of the threat of more sad shit and forced commital? Just like spittle, it drools our lives away.. I say -Apathy shall perish today!- for I cherish the way I reverbate. The mere lame wish they had the nerve to wait, tossed outside where the perverts mate. It makes me regurgitate, with pith. No more time for this hit and miss bullshit. This last chance is IT... In this stance and with this fist I will advance on it... never quit... Watch me Dance to it...
(Long, long ago mid-90’s)

Submitted: August 08, 2018

© Copyright 2023 K Rieke. All rights reserved.

Add Your Comments:

Facebook Comments

Other Content by K Rieke

Poem / Romance

Poem / Romance

Poem / Religion and Spirituality