i awoke and saw John Locke, in the corner;
he was bent down, erasing my slate.
no wonder i didn't know where to start
each morning; this is more than tiring.

"auto racing, bull fighting, and mountain climbing
are the only real sports… all the others are games."
Hemingway said, just before he shot himself.

as is life's adventures of the heart; a game.
object: get through life with heart unscathed.
to be able to do that, is of course, impossible.

try we must, try we will, try we do. yet from
the rumble seat of life, we catch only the dust.

with white knuckles we enter the ring of love;
the opponent is dressed in a suit of armour.
filled by ego, shielding all on-comers. we circle.

the iron gets hot; embers glow, the stars twinkle;
we stop, think the stars are for us; we draw in the sand
our proscription of our growing is the prescription.

04/26/2010

Posted on 04/26/2010
Copyright © 2026 Charlie Morgan