Post by lizbethbrown on Feb 19, 2009 11:45:13 GMT -5
There’s a World Under the World
(August 2008)
There’s a world
Under the world
Crumbling houses built of stone
Giant trees dying of old age
Like brambles
Lining walks of the first
Neighborhoods
Farms
Crumbling silos built of brick
On a road where someone
Once settled
Someone still stacks hay
Bales high – bales wide
Light catches different
On old streets
Wraps around you
Embraces the time traveler
There’s a world
Under the world
Hedge funds and oil futures
The Euro and the Amero
The Great wall
The Berlin wall
The US-Mexico wall
There’s a world they try to control
They manically
Maniacally try to control
Then, there’s the world
I live in
The world
They can’t control.
There’s a world
Under the world
Where a new father sits in the bandshell
Getting high
Gone for days
Because he failed his daily breathalyzer
And can’t go back.
And his two-week old baby
Sits at home with his girlfriend
Observing the world
For the first time.
We all observe it
And wonder why
At the utter stupidity
Cruelty, of man.
The absolute beauty
Of a baby.
There’s a world
Under the world
Where a river rushes downhill
A man fishes
Just like men used to
When they had to
When there were fish
Not stocked.
Where trees rush past
The sputtering bus window
A crazy man departs
To his campsite.
The rest of us
To our homes
Or jobs.
The bus driver embarrassed
Frazzled
His first mountain run
Can’t make the bus go up this big hill
And pulls over.
There’s a world
Under this world
Where an American woman
And a Scottish Australian man
Ride bikes through foreign lands.
Learning the heartbeat of India
Mongolia, Thailand
Because the heartbeats
Of their own home nations
Have stopped
Or slowed.
The heart beat of humanity
Pumps differently
In different places
But it pumps furiously
Where it still does.
Where it is not encased in a McProzac
McMansion nation.
There’s a world
Under the world
Where people see
Some sort of future
Some sort of potential
A vision
A dream
Something they hope
Will happen
Become true, be made true
Some reality
That can exist
Somehow.
Where people dream
And their dreams of what
Does not exist
Keep them alive.
Living forever
In a dream world
Or planning
The future?
There’s a world
Under the world
Where people say one thing
And can’t help but think another
Where they walk by each other
All day
With private thoughts
Reeling
Spinning inside
Tormenting some
Inspiring others
Good company
Bad company
Where they all spend a lifetime
Alone.
Trying not to be alone.
There’s a World
Under the World
Where people visit our town
On a hot Saturday in August
To get away from their towns
Or to see
Something
Else
Or to try
Something new
Or to socialize
With their friends.
It’s loud.
There are so many cars
That they ignore
And pretend to be on vacation.
(NOTE: This is my first time posting here. I appreciate ANY and ALL comments. Thanks so much!)
(August 2008)
There’s a world
Under the world
Crumbling houses built of stone
Giant trees dying of old age
Like brambles
Lining walks of the first
Neighborhoods
Farms
Crumbling silos built of brick
On a road where someone
Once settled
Someone still stacks hay
Bales high – bales wide
Light catches different
On old streets
Wraps around you
Embraces the time traveler
There’s a world
Under the world
Hedge funds and oil futures
The Euro and the Amero
The Great wall
The Berlin wall
The US-Mexico wall
There’s a world they try to control
They manically
Maniacally try to control
Then, there’s the world
I live in
The world
They can’t control.
There’s a world
Under the world
Where a new father sits in the bandshell
Getting high
Gone for days
Because he failed his daily breathalyzer
And can’t go back.
And his two-week old baby
Sits at home with his girlfriend
Observing the world
For the first time.
We all observe it
And wonder why
At the utter stupidity
Cruelty, of man.
The absolute beauty
Of a baby.
There’s a world
Under the world
Where a river rushes downhill
A man fishes
Just like men used to
When they had to
When there were fish
Not stocked.
Where trees rush past
The sputtering bus window
A crazy man departs
To his campsite.
The rest of us
To our homes
Or jobs.
The bus driver embarrassed
Frazzled
His first mountain run
Can’t make the bus go up this big hill
And pulls over.
There’s a world
Under this world
Where an American woman
And a Scottish Australian man
Ride bikes through foreign lands.
Learning the heartbeat of India
Mongolia, Thailand
Because the heartbeats
Of their own home nations
Have stopped
Or slowed.
The heart beat of humanity
Pumps differently
In different places
But it pumps furiously
Where it still does.
Where it is not encased in a McProzac
McMansion nation.
There’s a world
Under the world
Where people see
Some sort of future
Some sort of potential
A vision
A dream
Something they hope
Will happen
Become true, be made true
Some reality
That can exist
Somehow.
Where people dream
And their dreams of what
Does not exist
Keep them alive.
Living forever
In a dream world
Or planning
The future?
There’s a world
Under the world
Where people say one thing
And can’t help but think another
Where they walk by each other
All day
With private thoughts
Reeling
Spinning inside
Tormenting some
Inspiring others
Good company
Bad company
Where they all spend a lifetime
Alone.
Trying not to be alone.
There’s a World
Under the World
Where people visit our town
On a hot Saturday in August
To get away from their towns
Or to see
Something
Else
Or to try
Something new
Or to socialize
With their friends.
It’s loud.
There are so many cars
That they ignore
And pretend to be on vacation.
(NOTE: This is my first time posting here. I appreciate ANY and ALL comments. Thanks so much!)
