On The Road Again

I hope the title of this post invoked scenes of a dusty highway, the eager traveler's feet kicking up debris as he makes his away across unfamiliar terrain.  I hope that you can picture either a bright beaming sun or a low hanging moon guiding random footsteps towards new horizons.  Perhaps in the background, you hear the twang of banjos perfectly accompanying Willie's voice as he croons....'on the road again...like a band of gypsies we go down the highway...we're the best of friends...insisting that the world keep turning our way and our way...'

These are the thoughts that fill my mind as I prepare for a family trip to Maryland.  I'm hopeful that I'll enjoy myself among the people that I love.  And perhaps collect a few stories to share upon my return.  Remember everyone, life is a journey.  Sometimes the best way to get the most out of it is to simply enjoy the trip.

the Rare Poet

	Willie Nelson - On The Road Again .mp3
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"On the Road Again" --- Willie Nelson

Osmosis

Osmosis

little by little, it seeps through me

my sanity, a reservoir and they have just blown the dam

everything I give a damn about

feels so uncontrollable to me

I can feel it leaking through the cracks of my fingers

I can feel it sliding down the backs of weary hands

I can feel it slipping arm’s length, towards disaster

I don’t have the strength

to hold this together

all of my hopes and my dreams spill out of control

at these moments

I pour myself freely

see

I can feel it running out all over again

my sanity leaks from the tip of my pen like

warm water wrung from a rag

I cannot contain this

emotions poured heavy into

old paper bags

it’s a miracle my soul is not flooded

I cannot explain this, I’ve had

good days flow steady like

streams connected back to sunbeams

but these things couldn’t help wash away

my bad, always sitting like

rain clouds in the distance, forecasting sorrows

ill intentions shading my dreams with the downpours of

tomorrow, and I am sad

that most times I feel like a miracle, unprepared

uninformed to be witness

so it’s almost like I’m not really there

and I get this

strange feeling every time I spit this

spilling little pieces of self

that I am losing a part of me

but I keep this

sharing libations in the form of lyrics, it is for my sake

that they feel it

so when the time comes that I am empty

they’ll still drip me from the recesses

maybe I can’t make a way out of no way

but maybe my words can permeate depressions’ defenses

put some chinks in the armor of doubt

and make them want to keep tearing down adversity’s fences

because

whether spilling out passion or flooding out pain

my soul has known too many partitions

barriers content with restriction, and though I try my best to

break through them freely

a part of me gets lost in the process

the concentration of me isn’t what it used to be

as I concentrate my words on pouring out a message

I splash heavy, I boil over, I simmer

remembering all the days

this life was a stream of the unimpressive

but I remind myself of sympathetic hearts

that brimmed like lakes

adopting me into their waters

and if I can squeeze out a drizzle of that

love in the process

perhaps we can all reclaim order

all be washed clean

all be reflooded with hope

and this is what keeps me going

swimming these sometimes insane seas

fighting to keep kicking as I try to stay afloat

kinetic strokes through a stagnant ocean

because

I am a movement, that must keep moving

as one moving part of a forever moving wave

and I hope they soak me up

I hope my words infuse, that they may use me for good

hope I can remain

forever, poetic osmosis

[END POEM]

I hope this one is enjoyed.

the Rare Poet