Home » Posts tagged 'travel'
The only places to go now
Are those best traveled alone
Where a fork in the road need
Neither argument nor discussion
And where judgements pass
With tumbleweeds and dust that
Dissolve like cars with the horizon
Thumbing South of nowhere
And flipping birds, eh
I’ll be just fine.
The way it was and
the way I saw it well
neither really aligned,
which is why I guess
perhaps, I suppose
I’ve made it this far driving
Southbound towards Tijuana
watching my dreams fade
in the rear view mirror
knowing now the utopia I sought
was never bound to be orthodox
or American, or not but
foreign enough to appear genuine,
parked by the halogen glow
of another lone motel, stale air
and stained sheets of a
dystopian relevance
that makes this all seem o.k.
I like listening to the sound
Of beautiful melodies
Ones I haven’t the heart to play
Ones I haven’t the strength to ignore
Mostly those that come in waves
After morning, noon, and night
You can hear them like catching
The glimpse of a shooting star
Barefoot atop San Jacinto
Bend Oregon or Williamsburg highrise
Naked in the ecstasy of flight
Knowing even as your approaching
You’ve already begun to disappear
Beautiful music plays
while I remember—the worst—
most beautiful days.
The things I can not change
remind me why I’m here.
They are but the souls
reminder—to stay the course.
Halogen yellow bursts
of light, turn signals
burn bright, through
white lines of Topanga
Morning sunrise, her and I
up all night, we rise
like silhouetted tree
under the belly of LA sky,
gaze upon a sea of fog
clouds, shower faint
hallucinations of
spontaneous future
Travel
I was never ready
but always willing,
unable to refuse
the volume of the moon.
Every single day
She reminds me
Life’s worthwhile
I recently came across a post stating, “this is a bad year.”
Though I don’t disagree that bad things have happened this year, I can’t fully commit to such a bold statement as the entire year being bad.
Or perhaps, I’m just looking at it from a more critical standpoint?
A protest for example, is a collaborative effort between cultures standing together for justice.
The police force has made efforts, though not always headline news, to reinforce their code of conduct: to protect and serve.
Most citizens are respecting the rights of others, choosing to wear masks, in the fight against COVID-19.
The government is making attempts to sustain our American way of life through relief programs and continued unemployment benefits—even though at times it may feel like not enough—granting enough security to survive.
I’ve seen a number of portable facilities spring up in mainly homeless areas of Los Angeles, which does not solve the issue, but certainly shows hope.
What I am getting at is even in our darkest times, there are signs of hope.
Hope which we can and should not disregard as a complete and utter bad year.
If anything, I’d say, there is an awakening taking place.
What I see from an observers eye is an awakening of people who, regardless of the hardships, struggle, and inability to make concrete sense of all the senseless acts that have been occurring, realize a need for change and progression forward as a human race.
We are all struggling, regardless of another’s grass, I repeat,
we are all struggling.
But with struggle comes realizations. And with realization comes understanding. And with understanding comes progress.
Through common ground and communication I know there is hope, for you, and I, and the suffering on all sides.
It struck me odd today when a friend told me they envy my ability to travel where in turn I assured them, not everything is as it may seem, and that I too am struggling, only I choose a different point in which to view my current state of awareness.
You don’t have to travel far to climb a mountain or swim in a lake, or wake to see the most beautiful sunrise, or even lend a hand to someone less fortunate, because these are natural and always there waiting for you to take action.
Rather than saying, “this year is a bad year,” I suggest taking a deeper look and the time to realize that progress is happening.
And though progress may seem difficult, remain hopeful, my friends.
Be honest with yourself and your loved ones.
Greet a stranger as he were your family, with arms stretched wide in abundance.
Be the light at the end of the tunnel, the light which shines even in our darkest of times.
Be the air of peace in which we’re all capable of breathing.
Be courageous. Be kind. And be hopeful.
on the road to nowhere fast
holy rock and stone flies pass
speeding sky dawn’s overcast
where mountain gulch
stream onward fast—we drive
on happy high of summers past
