Poetry: “Trail of Three Cities”

Trail of Three Cities


Country boy made the city his home
And fell in love at first site
Hating the freedom of reliability
Giving way to what may be might

Looking for a foundation in brickwork
The river parts the common divide
Where the country was born yesterday
To each his own on the other side

Welcoming places you can’t come back to
That familiar place always unknown
Unfettered nomad boy on the run
The Sisyphus plight of a Rolling Stone

Never the burden of being a denizen
Newness never ever after gets old
When you’re gone love will always be there
At least that is what is thought to be told


Across the sea is a new place to drown
With another leased soul to sell
Aliens are exotic off the beaten path
Worldliness is Godliness when in Hell

Quiet and assuming harsh angular lines
River joins the separate adjacent territory
They want it impossible to learn the language
So there is never an end to the story

Tainted passport stamps for contrary customs
Unprecedented ambassadors cold from war
No place to hang the hats left behind
Those relics of so many a written score

The wakes of dirty bars and immaculate flats
Stone yourself to death in order to live
The transient want of the Teutonic way
But the place is not yours to give


“The Punishment of Sisyphus”, detail of a painting on an amphora by the Achelous Painter, late 6th century BC; in the State Collections of Classical Art, Munich Bildarchiv Foto Marburg/Art Resource, New York City


The uncharted unclaimed land of Manifest Destiny
A laugh and a cry at a myriad of welcome mats
You can’t help but to think of a tombstone home
Amongst the living dead lives of expats

Liberty is the most expensive thing in the world
And the plateau of the plain is hard to grip
They say the nightmare is worth the dream
Jaded times are cured with one little trip

Chaffed elbows and screams silenced
A far cry from the closeness of Man
But well worth the cumbersome climb
The duty of finding a home base plan

A touchstone to be eroded by timelessness
An amorphous river can’t wash away
Roads not paved still lead to somewhere
But it is not for you to say

© ldn, 2015


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