Last night, as I was falling to sleep something crossed my mind. Something silly, strange, I don't really know if it has any meaning, but, as with most things I can't get it out of my head until I write it. This has got to be the strangest or silliest thing I've ever written. I don't know how it will be interpretted. LOL, it may be deep, or completely meaningless. LOL For me to write something meaningless, seems impossible, so there's probably something in it. But it's like an abstract paining, if you stare at it long enough maybe there's some hidden deep meaning.
Anyways, it's been a great day. Lots of things happening at once which is an amazing feat for me. Almost too much happening at once!! Well, my status today though, is humble awesomeness. Thanks be to friends and the cosmic powers that be for all the good things in life. I value all the great and awesome people in life. After such a lifetime spending my life alone in a bubble I woke up one and decided it was time to live. I've come to the conclusion that this silly piece is a tribute to waking up and living. :)
Stick People
by Graywolf 12/6/2011
Up the stairs.
Look through the door.
Stick like arms and legs
carry me about.
Nothing on the otherside.
Nothing more than
a card board cut out.
Up more stairs.
Peer through another door.
The chase is on.
Looking around.
I close the door.
And follow the two dimensional floor.
Straight ahead for a ways.
Then Down the stairs I go.
Down again.
Down Down Down.
Round head looks around.
Is this the ground?
Running again.
Kitchen and bedroom.
Looking around.
Nothing to be found.
but something is wrong.
Where are the slippers.
Stick finger to mouth.
what to do.
Nothing to do but run.
run through the rooms.
Another set of stairs.
Climb, run, climb run.
What is it?
Where's the nun?
Nun?
Naaaah!! Non NUNS!
Just having fun.
Oooh, over there.
Its the musical notes
floating in the air.
Must mean party!
Run run run.
Stick legs carry me on.
There, upon peering through the door.
Is all the other stick people
stick arms in the air.
their heads all bouncing up and down
The beat is rhythmic.
Lose oneself in the song.
But the music ends and it didn't last long.
run run run
up and down up an down.
Oh there's not a single frown.
Pass the stick people by
as they smile.
Some follow.
Some come and go.
Run run run.
Up and down up and down.
The hallways and stairways are
like a two dimensional roller coaster.
or simply up and down lines across a page.
The building must be immense.
or does one go from one side of the page and at the end
simply start over?
Run again up up up we go.
Where it ends we don't know.
Sometimes I'm just going the flow.
Sometimes I go where I want.
It's me, it's who I am.
So, to and fro.
Sometimes a sunny beach in the back yard.
Other days a wintery landscape of ice.
Skate, skate skate.
Enjoy each and every snow flake.
Again, the pages turn.
And a new story is told.
As the pictures are drawn
and then the pages fold.
Flip through them
to see me run.
Oh, I'm having so much fun!
Don't let the pages end.
I like my stick figure.
I like all the others.
Smiling faces all around.
Hands in the air.
Heads a bouncin.
Somedays are cloudy.
Somedays are sunny.
The pages never get wet.
The pages never burn.
I continue to learn!
The book of life
contains the pages of each
person's stick life.
Stick people in heaven's eyes!
Day by day.
We go about our own way.
Climb climb climb
the stairs. Up and down up and down.
Moving about from room to room
in fast motion.
then off to all the other places.
Still more faces.
Each smile, each set of eyes.
They all contain a set of pages.
Aaah. Finally, someone draws wings on me
and I take off and fly.
I soar into the sky.
No longer bound to the ground.
My stick self is in the air.
No breeze as I sail.
I land on a boat and float.
All around the gentle waves splash.
Aaah but with wings I'm gone in a flash.
up and down and all around, loop de loop.
I've flown the coup!
Moving on, never looking back!!
Aah, sometimes there's some flack.
I come back to home.
I land and run run run.
Room to room.
to bed I go.
Sleep my stick self still must.
zzzzzzzzzzs above my head.
drawn in pencil.
this life is paper bound.
It is here where maybe
my personality is found.
Young and frivilous.
My paper self lives on.
Waiting to be written more.
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