Of course an Indian I ride
Past the purple mountains
Bowing at their majesty
Meditating at every scenic landscape
Taking a leak on the side of the road
Tent & sleeping bag my canvas abode…
Water from frothing backcountry streams
Occasional food over an open fire pit
Smoking a jay each night a big hit
Leaving a trail of multi-hued M&M’s
Enjoying the sounds of Nature whizzing
By my ears, sometimes splashing on my shades
Worrying less & less of constabulary raids…
Passing judgment on none
Passed on me by some
My hair a knot of tangled filaments
My beard full of dead bugs & flies
I mourn for those there that did die
I write songs about those poor little guys…
Clouds above of painted women
Rain pelting me in what seems anger
Sun so hot I feel cooked medium well
Full moon so bright no light do I need
If I were to die here the buzzards I would gladly feed…
© ed ~~ 12/12/08
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Looks like Hendrix there, Afro hairdo and bell bottom pants...beautifully written and the bike "escape" really fast and colorful...like the lines.
Cynthia
Edvard the Elder
Excellent poem!
Eileen
fee
I think some day you will be famous
because you are so unique
and I can say I knew you when the mothership came lolol pax A