The biker bowl

A poem i wrote after visiting a now abandoned teen hang out spot in the woods near my home called the biker bowl.

 

Walking through the silent forest

The formor battleground, red lit zone

The ground tells a story, the piles of sand

The battles here, only the rebels understand

 

This natural place, this used space

Sin drenched leaves falling down

Calm river, cooling waters there

The empty palace i have found here

 

Exploring the tranquil forest, just on the edge

    The edge of the sword, beyond preying eyes

Old friends, mangled echo's, their faces

Wrapped tight, tucked away, a disguise

 

Abandoned this place is

   Truely, discarded by the only ones who loved it

Needed its deep maze, a place to hide

   The broken puzzel pieces in this town, crooked fitted names

The rejected

The foully painted art works of the city

The bombed city, the blindfolded followers

                The only ones here who could ever truely love

Have been pushed away, fought out of the trees

They wonder now, confused

Longing to return to the womb

The unfleshly tied begining

       Where the world reveled itself to the few

If only they knew

 

The air just changed..flowing in a new direction

Reflection, affection..correction of the soul

Welcome to the biker bowl

    The relic, the last..the finial smoke cloud billowed today