deepundergroundpoetry.com
wanderer
Who is that unknown man with his dirty cloths and dirty hands?His gray mountain bike so muddy its as if he has come from unknown lands.He may be found just sitting quietly on a random swing set or a simple rock now and then.Then he gets up and wanders to somewhere unknown,leaving just a shadow of an image but is soon forgotton. Watching the endless stream of faces pass on the road before him,he peirces one of their selfish worlds with a cold,lifeless stare and they look back but he is already gone again.Constantly moving and pausing periodically he drifts like a soul trapped on this earth,then he returns to the place where the tough exterior protecting his surprisingly kind and gentle center had its birth.[/font]
Published 25th Apr 2011
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25th Apr 2011 4:00am
Okay...so who is he? You never answered that question. Certainly left me thinking, well questioning really. Not bad.
25th Apr 2011 4:55am
thank you.that was me on friday.wrote it sitting on a swing set.i just write about thoughts and experiences from my daily life.thank you for reading.
25th Apr 2011 7:23am
I like this. It's more prose, but if it were punctuated differently or had different spatial organization, I'd feel differently. It reminds me of a guy I met at a concert in Charlotte, NC. He was a traveler who hitchhiked all the way from Wisconsin. He said to us, "I've got friends in the mountains of NC and friends in Georgia." He matter-of-factly added, "I'm a traveler; it's what I do." It sounded like he could have been anyone describing their occupation, eg., "I'm a CPA; it's what I do."
