On a trip to NY city with friends we got caught in the The Blizzard of 1966 I ended up in Montreal a
Bus Trip From Montreal
The scattered remains,
strewn carelessly
here and there,
flutter down a
never-ending highway.
An endless sea
of unimportant faces,
erupting from what once was
tranquility,
is now fighting a hopeless
battle to retain
the importance
that once was.
The broken rotting bodies
left behind to fertilize
the younger fresher plants,
not yet set in their
growing habits,
turn to ashes
and ride with a wind
that cries "efforts wasted".
The barren desert
strains for the mountains
in the distance.
Made entirely of thought,
they rise into the pitch sky,
ready to crumble if a new
strange dawn arises.
Flying in another country,
a faded tattered symbol
fights to regain dignity.
Forgotten it becomes but
a mockery
On it's battered dead face
is a look, frozen, crying
to be burned.
Caught in a cement jungle
of uncomprehending minds
and twisted foreign tongues,
an alien wandered aimlessly,
lost in muddled thoughts,
caught and unable to escape.
The remains floated into
once visited, now forgotten
cities. Picturing faces as they
once were known, brought a
cover of emptiness over
the alien's eyes.
Gaunt bodies with
piercing bleeding eyes
crouched together.
with thickened tongues
they went back over the
sea of faces, barren deserts
and rotting bodies.
The acrid odor of a
burning symbol
enveloped the wasteland
and stretched on to eternity.
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