Personal Pulsations

So many leave the country,

To find their place in the world…

Swept away in a heartless city,

One’s fate is where they’re hurled.

The cities have a rhythm

It ebbs and flows; a moon drawn tide

We are anonymous in the millions,

Yet still no room to hide.

The view outside my window.

Is a colorful electric dance…

Throngs of others like myself,

Followed the current for one chance.

Trailer Life

Trailers are more than a shelter,

They’re a gift from the asphalt god…

They offer the perks of a mansion,

While squatting on a rich man’s sod.

A safe house for an outlaw,

The perfect hide-a-way, ready to roll;

A cabin parked in a Walmart lot,

Cheap housing, for one on the dole.

Trailers are the safety nets,

Where falling addicts crash…

Some trailers are the dumpsters,

And the occupants, the trash.

Some trailers make it possible,

To live on a sandy beach…

There, my psyche got a fresh view,

As my youth slid out of reach.

Sticks in the Water

My favorite sticks in the water,

Under the forest,

Under the mountains…

Under the sky,

Under the setting sun.

Under the tourist’s radar,

Under populated still today…

Under maintained public access,

Under rated isolation,

Understated until today.

Over the Rainbow Cloud

The Wizard of Oz turned seventy-five 
I heard on the news today;

Outliving our modern culture,

As other landmarks fade away.

Dorothy’s known technology,

Litters the Yellow Brick Road.

The Tin Man’s oiled, the lion’s brave;

Anonymous now, in “Facebook mode”.

We no longer need movie theaters,

Or VCR tapes at the video store…

Over the Rainbow's in outer space,

We’re not in Kansas anymore.