Monday, January 31, 2011

The Droids You're Looking For (aka Backpacker) -01/02/2011


You can get a lift there
but the ride back’s not too certain

you can sleep on it
but it’s not your couch

you can let yourself out
but it’s not your house to return to

you’re free all day
but on someone else’ schedule

minutes flat
make yourself not at home

get ready to go
find the next floor or corner
to fit yourself into

space you try not to waste
you’re contained for a day
maybe two

you’re as welcome as a short pause
a breather sighed in relief
without a spare key

forget your home
forget your hang ups
you get to hang out
and hang your hat

put your feet up
but tread light
footsteps soft
in explorer socks
as doors lock
behind you

scratch out a thank you note
like that’s all she wrote
wasting time
wondering where’s the best place to leave it

…before you leave this place

marching to the beat
of another drum
and a song you sing to yourself

you’re your own shade of grey
horse of different colour
green horning
blue balling
early morning
white lying your silvers linings

this is an ego trip
without destination

just a sense of direction
you're trying to get somewhere
trying to get at something

trying to hold up
the bargain on your end
and if your friends
have friends
you’ll have someone else
to talk to
who knows someone
who knows what you need
and you know
you’re one of them
the luckiest people

lucky enough
to know
you don't
take life for granted
here on this planet

your mind is week to week

these aren't the droids you're looking for

...but that's not the language they speak
and maybe no one will know
what you're talking about
but that’s not your place to say
just yours to stay, today

not your round
and that’s not your problem
not your wife to please
or kids to feed
or boss to appease
not your job to pressure
your only line to toe

is knowing when to go

this is your life in its entirety
just two bags
kept right under your eyes
not much

but you own it, entirely

and wouldn’t trade it for anything.


Well, given the journalistic nature of the blog while I'm travelling, I'm putting this up now in case the earlier poem sounded too whiny. Believe me when I say I am having an intensely enjoyable experience over here. But we'll get to talking 'bout that later...

Hey but while I'm at it, couple of things you (yes you) and I need to talk about:

~relax you're not in trouble.

Something you should know though. The amount of people checking this blog out has increased over the last couple of months, and I believe my writing is benefitting from this. I think when you know people are going to read your work, you naturally lift your game. I don't want to waste your time, I want to share what I have and give you something of myself thats both deeply personal yet accessible and entertaining. Anyone who says that art(-istic endeavours) can't be both can just go carry bags for me.

So I'm trying, and you're helping.

Despite the time and energy involved in keeping up this blog, I am committed to shun the publishing world and will always produce work that will be freely available over the net, never asking anything in return (not even comments or feedback, as maddening as it is not to get more of them!)... except one request for you.

Share this.

If you like what you read here, tell people about it, send one to a friend, read it someone, post it up somewhere, anything. Simply put, when it comes to producing this: the more interest I get in what I do, the more interested I get in doing it.

All pretense of modesty aside, there aren't many poets out there of my profile who match my output. When I could just as soon get some of this published, there are honestly times when blogging feels like a wasteful exercise, like I'm just chalking sidewalks in the dark, in a language nobody reads anymore.

The reason I do it is, here I know it's possible to get through to real people, not just academic snobs or other poets, that's the difference. All you need to get all my work is a URL. That's a wonderful thing. So please, whatever it is you get from this ~pass it on to someone else too.

Good things grow. People like us, we grow.



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