nothing concluded 120

changes tune like the wind

changing direction in the trees

like fingers through the hair

the neighborhood quiet

mind out loud

still enormous raindrops

landing in the eyes

watery enough without help

struggling to breathe

plenty of air

around each tree a yellow

ribbon but the president

doesn't care

hard to think rationally

everything is confusing

the brain may

overload and spill over

ash trays shatter

when thrown to one side

or the other

how many nights left

until the wick is buried

beneath hardened wax

makes everything shiny

trapped as fruit in Jello

something fell over onto the floor

tripping falling getting

right back up

it's what life is all about

nothing concluded...

nothing concluded 119

time and time again

bet he's said that at least

a hundred times when will

he learn to keep to himself

and stop talking to strangers

he's got nothing to say

and he enjoys

the solitude and can't

handle anything correctly

nothing concluded...

nothing concluded 118

rejoining the scene

in progress many thoughts

splatter pages what does it all

mean rejoining the world

where we left off

a point long ago

when every moment

seemed to matter

none do or so he's told

we all just keep on

rejoining our lives

already in progress

(or digress as the case may be)

he knows he hasn't

missed much

he knows he has been wrong

too many times to contribute

guessing at what matters

most daily reassuring

himself with every step

on solid ground

still walking around

as if he's going

somewhere else might be

a little quieter than the back porch

tonight and it's almost

tomorrow again

and he's disturbed

that it keeps happening

quickly nothing concluded...

nothing concluded 117

twists in hair and in the road

a head be hind

how long has he been

walking in circles

when will he follow the road

everyone else seems to be

getting along fine

what's his problem

when will he cut his hair

and start listening

to those influential voices

the do know best

or so they say

nothing concluded

in the middle of Saturday afternoon

nothing concluded

all night and twice

tomorrow will bring new

thought he would be somewhere

by now understanding

the web his mind

spins like a spider ready

to feast on the catch

seeing the empty chair across

a dark table nothing concluded...

silently he comes and goes

silently he comes and goes
and suddenly he doesn't have to ask
at the store they recognize him
even with a different hat on
greeted by the same smile
might be the brightness
on a cloudy day
he meets how many smiles
but how many would sit and try
to decipher the thoughts
in this strangers mind
how many write down what
pages might stand out
from beginning to end
or flip it does it sound the same
as all the rest that might
actually waste his time
or could a new smile hold the answers
to questions he hasn't thought of yet
he will probably need something
soon enough to see another smile
when words praise his thoughts
he might squint at the shining light
being a complete stranger with a truckload
of thoughts packed in tight
they can be hard to understand
what do they find
those few minds that take the time
to look passed the complete stranger
appearance whatever eyes might see
changes when swimming in the thoughts
without even knowing most of the time
outside the sky constructs
a fiery painting his words cannot compare
there is no color only his mind
and his emotion pen page and strangers
eyes absorb his thoughts and
appreciate his randomness...