On The Bus

I find myself in the back of the bus again

Scribbling bumpy lines to pass the time again

And I'm feeling like joining the ranks of the indelible and indecipherable

The esoteric symbols and names of the latest phase

Those with enough passion to feed their protests

Pointless and otherwise

And there is a small sanctuary found in the youthful ease of steel toed boots

Worn bright and arrogant

Ready to shitkick the world

And there is cool comfort in the company of those

Who still have the energy and naivete

To believe that they can change the world

Before it has the chance to change them

And though I still tend to be a proud member of a limited breed

The enraged vigilantes for beauty and civility

I am aware of all the cocoons I have sprung from

The countless daily concessions I make to compensate for my cosmopolitan cravings in this instant's society

But I still manage at times to muster the spark to design a few signs

Walk a few lines

And in flashes that seem on occasion to be

Duller and fewer and farther between

I find the fire to fully believe

That I can create art from this ongoing calamity

Build my own future

Buy a farm

Find my rhythm and learn to drum

And finally drop

Into something greater

By dropping out of this