A content struggler

I got no money.
Yet it’s sunny.

I’m a traveller, I need no home.
I take shelter in the open, my journey is my poem.

I get my food when my lord is me-happy.
Other days he gets a little slappy.

Every unturned stone is my bed.
If not roses, I’m happy with thistle under my head.

That stream and I share the same deer.
The deer and I share the same fear.

But I make friends with the cooling air.
It takes me from here to there, without fare.

If tough days lie ahead, tougher have passed.
Finally after all these years, I have begun to last.

I’m a moment burglar.
A very content struggler.

Bound Homeward

Hurry or leave.
Waste away or grease.

Make out with the deceased.
If it is what you please.

Haven’t I told you already?
That you’re not ready?

Your will is to undo.
Your karma, to listen.

Listen to the radio.
It's blaring on the patio.

Where lush is green.
Life, a big screen.

Hold yourself and out.
Purse within, soul without.

Pursue the rabbit.
Because you’re the dog

Run off the mill.
The downslide starts at the hill.

Back by popular demand.
Now, he demands.

As the world watches.
Scalding torches.

Will you come to where you come from?
Because there’s nowhere else.

Hung High

The truth of my pain
Lies buried in the ocean of some uncertain hope

As it sleeps on the ocean bed
An unfamiliar happiness engulfs me.
It’s as comforting as unnatural

I see you far and beyond
You exist like a loss about to happen

I fear touching you
It might tell me there’s nothing to touch

I bite my lips to teach this pain a lesson
It hides its ugly face for a while
Only to strike back with a vengeance

Helpless, I let my pain
organize my thoughts
In minutes, I turn into a puppet

Held together by strings of despair
Moving aimlessly, lifelessly to tunes of regret

But someone will find me.
Soon.

The hope helps me put on a show,
For my friends who’ll never know
the difference, the change.