This blog was created for others who will hopefully glean something from the words I have written.Not much to say except I ran off from an orphanage when I was 13 years old.Hopped on a freight train and joined the circus.Have been wandering ever since.I am grateful to be alive and my only desire is to leave something here for others to gain from.If I can accomplish that then I have successfully reached my intended goal.All we have left in the end is our legacy.
Looking back retrospectively Sitting on these rails Retired in serious outdated attire Many things have been heard From voices upon my seats ~ One man sits by himself in the corner His shoes tell the story of his life A weathered face of deep lines Caused by the presence of strife The beggars who cross my floors Many times in one day Some do it to support their habit Others have no other way Blank stares into open spaces In the hustle and bustle of the city Impatient feet await In a place where there is no pity Grinding of my wheels Shrill high pitches Each curve emits sparks Along the way Strangers refusing to acknowledge eachother Minds that have gone astray Grinding of the mind Shrill high pitches Each curve brings with it sparks Passing by cemeteries Children playing in parks Sirens abound to break the silence of sound Howling dogs pierce the air In rebellion they object to the invasion Of the space within their lair Vacillation within the vicissitude The vortex created is paralytic Woes go up quickly dissipating Effectuality in the erosion acidic
Cactus stand together in silence Windswept landscape of desert terrain The plight of the tumbleweed across the plains Roadrunners in the early dawn Covering ground where Buffalo once grazed Under the guise of smoke signals sent from mountaintops That wafted amidst the earthen clay Western skies abound To the silence within the sound Amongst the souls that stir Upon those mesas Where once lived the Red Man Of many tribes they were In those places entrusted Signs carved upon wanton rock Under the blazing unforgiving sun Peace within the presence of ancient stone Reptilian inhabitants who live in harmony This starved place of beauty Where antelope once thrived The cactus fondly remember Fragrant floral odors adrift As they observe the tumbleweed In its journey to places over the horizon Knowing that all things must return From whence they came
When I close my eyes The grey Leporidae Floats in the clouds Under the moon Wherever I go it follows me To the hill where my white horse roams Cool water taken from silent wells My horse quenches his thirst He too notices the Leporidae Floating in the sky above It has followed him at times Over the mounds trailed by hounds Who attempt to persue That evasive hare who remains at large Out of the reach of the relentless ones For he only shadows those he wishes Entering into their dreams When he wants to be found By the side of the brook His heartbeat can be heard In the bullrushes and willows Moonbeams gleam off the water in the brook His reflection along with the moon He floats gently back into the clouds Following,always following Like my shadow he follows He is blanketed under the stars Choosing when he wants to appear As he fades into the sky My white horse returns to his place Where cool waters are taken from wells
