I feel like I am on fire,
it is not from any desire.
Smoke I can smell,
from this living hell.
Everything turning so fast,
impossible things will last.
The friction of movement,
is forever constant.
How is it possible to ever slow down?
We could all move back to our old town.
Sell the car buy a bike, everyone chill.
I think from the fast pace we get a thrill.
I do not think it will ever happen,
mama earth is in trouble all misshapen.
It is to late now anyways,
please try and change your way's,
and I pray for happier Days! .
David, A very thoughtful and enquiring poem, as to where do we go from here. Imo we can all seek and find what you are looking for, but we can only do it individually. I could not live in the rat race, which is what the Cornish call all life beyond the Tamar Bridge,60 milies from here! It is their border. Life is much slower this side of it, and they do everything directly! ! ! which is whenever! ! lol Some folks love the fast lane, possibly all of us at some time or another in our lives, but we all change. Go for your dreams, Smiling at you, Tai
Nice poem Dave, and oh so true, take a chill pill Love L xx
Nice one Dave, from the rat race to Happy Days! The Fonz would approve, cool. Danny
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Great one Dave, I like ones like this....10 for tiyler