Sunlight broke, and the trees fell from view,

As I lifted my feet up and over the verdant ridge.

Left then right, I felt the altitude around my ears.

The pressure left my mind and middle Tennessee was a painting.

–

Surrounded on all side,

And a mind vacant of life’s lows and highs.

I was a pure river stream.

I am a master of steel and steam.

Like my fathers before me.

–

The scholars scoffed and raised their glasses,

Perusing my actions like characters from their classes,

Drank me in, turned me over,

And gave every step a deeper meaning,

But I hiked still higher.

–

Part 5.

And still that simple man went

From shop to ship to spend

Time and money he already spent

And followed down the scent of wind

–

“Hello” he gasped at the precipice,

The mountaintop he forgot he was climbing.

“How do you do, my dear miss?”

And if she was not the fairest flower at the peak, he would be simply lying.

Part 4.

Once the tracks came to an end,

Gunthor was as south as you can go.

The workers quarreled about the last ten

Tracks they had to lay with no land left to show.

–

A contract is a silly thing

When no one bothers to check their measure,

And start working before they think,

But Gunthor found a girl and said to her

–

“Is there no land more south than this?

I must find a warmer climate.”

The girl fixed her eyes with a curious wish,

For she did not speak the language of the vocal chords Gunthor hit.

Part 3.

Awakening from his dreams,

Gunthor walked until he could walk no longer.

He thought of all those things

She mentioned that he longed for.

So Gunthor sauntered solemnly

Upon the railroad tracks south,

Mentally prepared to pollen-leave,

To float on winds to a new red brick house.

And his only friend woke up at morn,

Thinking of everything but his southbound man,

Made breakfast followed by mother’s scorn,

And left for work to toil with monotonous hands.

Welcome me,

   Would you please

To this nocturnal poly amorous night brigade

Of lovers and fighters and flee-ers and

All-nighters. 

Part 2.

I am a simple man,

The simple man said.

With meager eager plans

And a straight one type of head.

A chalk outline of things to do.

People to see and things to make.

I bring a bag to parties in order to

Sustain the image that I fake.

A quiet time of pleasantries

And empty dates I never go to.

I leave to gaze at pleasant trees

Instead of those girls that thoroughly think through.

I am a pleasant simple man

Said the not-so-simple man.

Part 1

She wandered through those flower beds,

And whistled while she went.

The songs felt warm inside her head,

Pounding with every second spent.

The spring of green was shimmering,

And it was the finest she’d ever found.

For she had been walking with nothing to see,

And her eyes had started to stare towards the ground.

I can’t seem to write today.

My mind is on a few other things.

And I have too little time,

And I have nothing to rhyme

with,

And my heart is full of life,

But it’s covered up with that day-by-day garbage trash.

So to keep a promise, I’ll write something today,

And try my best to make it sound okay.

Scientists tried to define love once more.

They got caught up on try forty-four.

With beakers and potions and accurate lengths,

They couldn’t find what gives a heart its strength.

Congress passed a law for lovers.

For all to write about what takes them over

The moon

And what makes everyone swoon.

But no one could understand the writing

If they hadn’t experienced that same red tinge.

Westerly Whittle-sticks.

Whisper to me please.

I swear I’ll listen now.

I stopped that white noise, made it cease,

And now all I can think

Is