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The Daily Grind
by Alisa Jsgazing out of my window again
lost in my thoughts,
staring into the unexplained
listening to unanswered requests,
as I follow a bird streak by
seemingly oblivious to what he doesn't see
ironically,
me on the inside
him on the outside
of this glass ...
I watch as another finds a telephone pole
and together they sing
to welcome the morning
on this glorious day in paradise ...
with a nod and a tip of their heads
they fly away
together,
but to where?
I don't see their abode
is it only us humans
who call it a nest?
is it us who are clueless
and them with the answers,
whoever heard of a bird
on Wellbutrin?
we, with our stress filled existence
rushing around like ants on a hot plate
sliding on butter and coconut chips,
like moths to a flame
relentless,
around and around on this treadmill
we run deeper and deeper
into the burrows
those convoluted burrows
of the grind,
as it percolates
dark and hot,
pour in a cup
and sip ...
01/08/2007 Posted on 01/08/2007
Copyright © 2025 Alisa Js
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Tony Whitaker on 01/09/07 at 08:19 AM This poem sounds like me, Mr. Anxiety himself. Also, the line "whoever heard of a bird on Welbutrin?" tells me how futile as "civilized" humans our lives evolved. We no longer stop to "smell the roses" and these passing birds acknowledged. Powerful and going into my faves.
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| Posted by Gabriel Ricard on 01/09/07 at 03:07 PM Thanks for throwing this my way. You were right to think I'd like it. |
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