The Wild Path

Standard

The mind runs like a mustang
Unbroken by the boundaries,
The bindings,
The bridle that cuts at the chaff

The chagrin woe
The steel plow
The oil drills, spilling in volcanous spewing

And like a different kind,
The same breed
But race horse
Fills the pocket stash

Greed, gleans the collected man into composure
The pasture from his birth to freedom day
Nothing there beyond will his eye know of

Sure, the grain chews greasy in texture
Prick precising
Divides the whole
In two unleveled halves

We are assigned
From birth
The have nots; the haves
The common stream
From which both drink
And share
The backwards flow
Ego; wrath

No beard on a mountain sings of hunger
No coin in the bank sings full

The stallion knows not of blue collars and class
His wisdom, either
Will not keep;
It’s perished just as soon
The moment’s passed

All the wild horses…

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One response »

  1. Free & Wild, open spaces, places to go, peoples to meet, conversations, times, moments to share. Metaphors your words on societal life, the need for moments of living without categorisation at the instants we travel. So true, the rift between civilisation and the world of natural wild living, wild moments, open futures. Loving the new words and lines!

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