It's All Dutch On The Fly to me.

 

It's all Dutch on the fly to me

©-MFB III 

 

I have been away from home
for quite awhile now
no phone calls, bills,
deadlines, mail, and no newspapers
all of the outside world
ignored as I travel unfettered
through a maze of emotions I call the U.S.


Now I find myself wondering
what would happen?
if I never went home again
If I continued on in
this realm floating
above it all, looking beyond
to the next curve.

 
A modern Flying Dutchman,
crisscrossing the

back roads of America,
or the world....
on a continuous journey.

 
Selling pieces of my art
inspired by my trails,

reading poetry for a

muffin and some

capacino

at cafe's I pass. 


Sleeping on fine linen

sheets one night
and then in the warm sands
of a dry desert basin the next.

 
eating at the finest

gourmet cafes
or just munching on
an apple or an orange
freshly plucked from
the roadside orchards.

 
Exchanging some

home cooked meals
for a few chores
or just living off the land
by necessity or choice.

 
Would I tire of my

vagabond existence
would I long for my own bed,
my own land,

my old home again
or could I go on cheerfully
ignorant of possessions
the glue of the

 fabric of society
with all the holds

that it demands.

 
It is a tempting thought
when you look

across the plains
the deserts, the wilds,

 the vast oceans,
mountains and valleys

 are tempting lures.

 
Sure wallpaper is attractive,
but this blue sky

and what lies beneath it
make even the

finest of designer
patterned walls

fade in comparison

 
I think if I could

 live my life again.

 I would probably pursue
this endless flight of fancy...
touring the planet until...
my last breath leeched
itself from my lungs,
as I lay dying in

some tiny, sandy niche,
in a beach on Easter island
or on a straw mat in the back
of a Chinese peasants abode.
but since I have made

 numerous commitments
and obligations and since
there are many who rely on me
I know that these things

would haunt me
even in a paradise

of joy like Tahiti.

 
So I will return home soon
from whence I came

to pick up the pieces
where I left them,

unpainted
and trod on through

 the mini-world
I've made within walls

that confine me
walls that hold a life

truly my own,
my choice, and my

destination for now.

 
Oh, I'll still make my

escapes once in a while
a pirate of some

time stolen away.....
in a flying Dutchman's style,

to places and dreams
that I will only be

 able to grasp
for a brief time

with fingers
that could crush

sheer granite walls.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~

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