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Turn

Updated on August 29, 2013
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Turn


Far from here on a desert planet

The skies burn as God damned it

For its internal, natural tendencies

To question where it shoots the breeze

In a universe that has no rules

Full of intrepid, learning fools

It got its name from the way it turns

Like a disc for which a computer yearns

It’s red like the eyes of a possessed cat

Chasing a man who does not deserve that

Personal affair of contingencies

For his life is the Father of the seas

But this globe is without water as a man without brains

Who judges by cover—therefore insane

Inside its atmosphere the wind twists like a lance

In the side of Francs where Sarah learned her trance

Underneath is so uncommon it’s hard to judge

For our scopes are still nibbling on a child’s fudge

Yet it matters not in a world that emits

As much as it moves as much as it sits

A force unbridled in un-torn ecstasy

We will have born but cannot see

Whaling, and gasping, and whipping its guise

Under sage-colored skies

And its power is the point where its pole churns

There’s so much to learn and to be un-learned

Ask the Brahmin or the sage under the color of the sun

They’ll have nothing to say until all is undone

And begun again for it’s a circle and it says,

“The end and beginning are subject to liaise.”

Roving, roving around a sun that roves nonetheless

We keep choosing, what more we have found less

He’s our brother, She’s our mother—it changes year to year

Yet one thing we do hold dear

Is the love we found when things were unclear

So up-a-chin and offer a cheer

To the mystical, ethereal, lovely insanity

We find ourselves in—don’t hide your vanity

For the beauty without or the beauty within

The prickled oranges of our skin

Oh, this orb is so misunderstood

As if under a rain that’s over a hood

We continue to meander like leaves in the wind

That left their naiveté long ago to begin

A path pressed by cotton-gin

Tip-toeing sin to a sin?

That isn’t worth it, my friend, let me tell you a story

That ends in knowing our imperfection is glory

Must we labor over questions that have no answers

When a dance is a dance—and we’re the dancers

Along the rings, and coils, and wheels of considerable

Love indivisible

And as far as we look to an unknown thing

It’s ourselves to an adventure we endlessly bring.

-Mike Head (9/2/12)

Keep on a-movin'!

-Mike

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    • srinivasennam profile image

      srinivasennam 4 years ago from Hyderabad

      please post i want earn online 1$ per site any information

    • Michael Head profile image
      Author

      Michael Head 5 years ago from Boston, MA

      It's "turn" from yesterday's poem--a very life affirming one. Thanks. -M

    • whonunuwho profile image

      whonunuwho 5 years ago from United States

      A rambling of the beautiful in life, as well as the mysteries, and much like the ramblings of each of our lives. We are born, live in all adversity nature holds, then die, and often unrecognized in our existence. Yet, we are given life...the pure, the senses, and the chances to exist in a world of potential beauty to those who will see.