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Conjolted Poetry

Conjolted Poetry

Saturday, 13 June 2015

The yellow dashed road...

Seated in "om" state,
atop yellow dashed line-
on bending road way.
I meditate in the calm-
of sacrosanct breeze,
and dull day weather...

By me a mad man passes,
thinking i'v lost access-
to my conical medulla,
like he with a loose wire.

Then a pastor trekking jesters,
with hands of a frozen clapper-
when he stops to pray for me,
thinking I was as troubled as he.

A cooperate man on a business call,
strolls by me boiling in his rental,
arguing about shares like he's mental,
and barely notices me in my Temple.

Then a chubby wealthy fella rolling lazily-
on his off road scooter swinging childishly,
says to me "stacking cash would be better,
than sitting on a road like a dead letter."

The selfie queen dressed so pristine-
with her subjects dressed for the scene,
huddle up behind me to say, "cheese,"
until I fart and break them up with ease.

Then they flee till a poor man comes by,
sits by the grass and tsk's as he sighs-
troubled by a worry in the hurrying world,
down like a flag that needs to be furled...

The birds in the sky feed my head with a song,
as Jesus and Jackson in my mind moon walk along.
The trees waving leaves add a really sweet symphony;
that ladles my mind with peace that's heavenly...

Sometimes we do things that are crazy to crazies,
but finding peace is an art form that's abstract-
paint it how you want, when you want, with who you want,
and sit in your vehicle to take you on that yellow dashed road...

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