Monthly Archives: May 2000

‘The Road To No-Where’

I don’t actually remember this one, but I found it scribbled on a napkin, and I think I can safely assume that I wrote it! *grin* Anyhoo, I copied it into one of my journals, dated it from discovery, and now I’m adding it onto here for your amusement… whoever you are!

‘The Road To No-Where’

Nothing outlines the Road to No-Where,
  yet still you’ve found it.
Follow it,
  see where it doesn’t lead you.
Each day,
  stop and let something go-
    something of you,
      something of me.

You’ll never reach the end
  of the Road to No-Where,
But after a time,
  you may find that you are No-One
    on the Road to No-Where.
And then you might see that No-Thing,
  and Every-Thing,
    are One.

‘Who Looks?’

Written whilst sitting in traffic in Century City. I like this one. Actual date of composition unknown; only the year survived.

‘Who Looks?’

In the City, in a car stuck in traffic,
Who looks up through the petrol fumes,
Away from the artificial lights,
Between the buildings, nestled on hills,
Stretching across the valleys,
To gaze upon the silent stretch of highway,
Jam-packed with rush-hour cars,
To regret for just a moment,
The choices that make up their days,
The endless weeks, rushing without moving,
The sleepless nights, fretting over ‘success,’
Always indoors, growing pale, listless,
And wish the day to begin again,
To enjoy the opportunity each new dawn brings,
Fair weather, soft breeze,
Away from the concrete and steel prison,
With its cold shadows and crowded streets,
And second-hand sunlight?

 

‘Hungry Outside The Window’

Loosely based on a true story. Date of composition lost save for the year.

‘Hungry Outside The Window’

Hungry outside the window,
  On the street.
The restaurant is crowded;
  I can smell the garlic and wine,
  The steamed vegetables and hot bisquits.
People inside are laughing, smoking, talking, eating;
I’m hungry on the street,
  Looking in.
The waitress is cute;
  She’s giving me the eye.
Even now, hungry and cold,
  Holes worn through my shoes and in my coat,
  I can still turn a girl’s pretty head!
Just pity, or something more?
I think she realises that I’m hungry–
  She comes over to the window,
  And offers me a drink:
  Water, in a glass,
  And some bread.
Famished, I bite into the bread.
Nodding silent thanks,
  I smile, and she smiles,
And then I walk on down the street.