orgami's Diaryland Diary

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wandering story

outstanding in the feild

out there miniscule
the great crushing weight
of insignificance

whom hasnt felt that
the ego trembling like that
of a mouse

the great wings of hawk
flitting on the sun
the disc of reason

tucking in and diving down

and then some

hot today
maybe
could be cool
i havent been out yet

coffee is cold and finished
in the blue plastic Mental
Institution cup i borrowed
a keepsake i remember
tea i remember busy
remember station all redone
painted like
new
not the fifties the green
horrid paint the smell
of cleaning solvents and
piss

smell of lost souls
and imbued happiness for some
anger for others

the screens on the windows
like a hazy summer day
even in winter
in spring when there
was frost still in my heart
lingering half frozen
half warmed up

the sky aching blue
naked of clouds or stars
staring like wonderment
and i looking back
on my walk
the wind blowing my
long hair around

just me myself and that
other soul
the one i hate
the one that keeps me
inside

learn to let go and say
hello in there
enjoy the day come what
may

the grass is so vibrant
beneath the last years
season
like the page of al old
favourite book
the cover tattered and worn
by handling
but inside
just the few chapters in
its still fresh

the forest stand intriguing
between the grounds and the
fence beyond the stonework
gravel pit empty and barren
of activity the great hulk
of machinery marooned in the
middle

the trees are kept cut the old
deadfalls taken away
its peaceful and the limbs as
they rattle against one another
make small talk

even the birds are quiet out
here just the stark umbrage
of trees reaching high
the bark all rough and textured

a paper wrapping here and there
from someones snack treat from
the trip down the long hall on
the ground floor all the steam
pipes overhead the windows with
no screens looking out in the
courtyards between the wards

a bird would pick this up to decorate
a nest I suppose why didnt i pick
it up? its cold out here
and there is snow in the shapes
and hummocks of the feilds
I love the pines the small ones
they planted long ago
twenty feet and less shaped by the
wind and snows the lawns flat
the geese havent flown back in their
peculiar vv's honking their way
north in formation

the tall water tank with its red
faded peeling paint stands tall
the ladder protected somewhat
only the few determined climbed
it and lept off from the railing
that encircles the cat walk

crazy cats who were making like
birds they have put a casing around
it but one can see its not fool proof

the brick structure is so ancient
modern for the fifties the flat
apartment blocks the screen on the
tall windows for natural light
I look up and someone must be
looking down

the parking lot full of staff cars
but dwarfed b y the horizon full
of trees and that beyond that
we cant comprehend when here

my ward time is up almost
a city bus makes its way through
the lots and picks up the group
of people gathered by the glass
waiting booth

it huffs away growling picking up
speed to downtown just minutes away

and when i leave what will I have
learned
that it has made a story as I sit
typing now behind the computer screen
the light on the blinds bright
and cheerful the birds calling
is it warm or cold out
I dont know I havent gone out yet...

This story has been brought to you
by Olanzpine and Epival
makers of fine medication
for the bi polar in all of me

8:51 a.m. - 2010-05-07

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