3 Blue Stars In The Night

As I stepped out the door

to get some air

night embraced me

restless thoughts engaged each other in Octagon fashion

 

3 blue stars in the night I mistook for Orion's belt winked at me

sometimes the heavens remind me

of  lost humanity and the hard miles to go it takes to reach home.

 

Murders beyond the moonbeams tell me everything I need to know

constant agonies screaming through The Land Of Nod

sometimes sets my hope to cold streets, leaves it there starving and

left to panhandle some kind of goodness begging others for me to eat.

 

When tears fill up my eyes they feel like oceans bashing turmoil against ancient rocks

that forgot how to shine new in the sun

sometimes even tears cannot reach our true sorrow

 

Whenever I think "I will not make it"

I think of Ensenada Mexico and that 3 legged dog I saw riddled by bullet hole wounds

hopping awkwardly down a dirt road, what a champion I thought.

 

How many miles will it take for him to reach home?

When he lays down in the dirt alone, is he moved by blue stars winking?

What kind of strong turpentine runs in that dog's blood?

What dark trample past left him without a leg, then shot him, and left him to die?

 

What dark story roams and stalks the cold cellar of your mind?

 

I remember one night as I was coming down the stairs headed to kitchen for water

I saw him there, head in hands, body shaking, hard sharp tears running like a geyser from a leaky  hose                           I never saw him cry before

 

His violent sorrow surprised me at 3 am

I picked up my pace, poured my water, dropped the ice, headed back...

I saw him again, he was sniveling and trying to mask his violent crying outburst

 

There was a moment when I thought to reach out to him

but I thought his tears to be tribal spears that could lance me in a moment's notice

I thought of them as my own

and hurried up the stairs, laid on the bed, reeling thoughts dwelling on dark stories roaming and stalking cold cellars in my own mind.

 

Questions attacked me.

What made him cry?

What were his thoughts?

Did an old tyrant leave him to die somewhere?

 

Then I thought, it doesn't matter

it all adds up to

Hard Miles To Go Before We Reach Home

drowning in Life's ocean, abandoned on dirt roads

hobbling to reach some kind of goodness to help you shine new again.

 

When tortured

I think of this

when the howling heinous mad dog tyrants

of the world echo tragedy

through my brain like a fast speeding train

and I look up at

3 Blue Stars In The Night

and ask

"How many hard miles to go before I reach home'

 

the stars never answer

nobody ever knows

so i crush my smoke out

head back inside

and pray for good dreams to find me..