A Life in Nature
An
excerpt from the Dingo Diaries by Dean Sutton
Content and confused.
I don’t know. I don’t worry. Just take me to the place of good rains and sprouting seeds. Somewhere in this upcomin’ world, where people share the same energy. Sometimes the magnetic fields connect them – my method of choice.
Other times it’s up to the individual to go on a self-exploration journey.
I’ll take you into this path where plants grow and skies shatter. Raindrops left behind solely for a good cause. I’m trying to pass poetry and music off to my friends like it’s a joint. I dunno, I guess now I must discover something chronic, like this sun falling under a purple cloud.
Introduction to the Outside
A door opened with one wave of the arm. Walking into a land where you become king of the fiddler crabs playing their fiddles. Right next to those raccoons on the bank wearing coonskin hats, sittin’ on stumps, eating my lunch. Animals are Cannibals. Look at those dirty pigs playing football, and those cows sittin’ on hay stacks drinking chocolate milk, laughing and cheering with their glass bottles. Let’s go to the chicken coop where mother hen comes up wearing an apron and holding a frying pan. She asks us how we want our eggs cooked.
The Honey Hours
Golden times shine, free passes and wind chimes.
The eyelids rise with the sun, going surfing, sailing some. Switch boards and feel alright. Ridin, ridin, ridin, into the night. Over by the pier, a scene is here. Helicopter overhead and police boats, searching for bodies out of their view. Thanks for the spotlights, shocka bru. It’s nine thirty, the fiery rock in the sky fell, and a blue full moon comes out as well, and I’m still in the water, feelin swell.
Good words
One of these nights I will find a firefly and swallow it whole, maybe then you can see my soul. A true pure luminescent glow, anyone can come to this free show.
At this high point, during times of many, I open my eyes, and like a net, I cast them over the river. Along with all my worries. Righteous views in sets of twos.
Glorious emotions. Friends in the threshold sit around a bonfire. Spirits talk about thinking unknowingly, just some form of truth. Late, lazy poetic words crash on the paper like Folly waves.
Cravings for the Cave
Gazing the saltwater sun dyed eyes off into the northwest horizon. Do I honestly ride a bike that far? Ten miles even looks impossible, but looks are deceiving. Black clouds above the white city lights. Chasings of the waves, chasings for the waves. Cravings of the cave, cravings for the cave.
Early before dawn, I met a man with dark skin and thick dreads. He said the sun and the moon tell him the meek will rule the world. In his culture it was New Years. It almost seemed like the rising sun was dancing with the fading stars, as the flute he played made the yellow snake rise, slither its tongue, and spit its golden rays of saliva across a dim glowing purple sky.
So what is darkness? Darkness on the outside is only physical. If you paddle out at night, dive underwater, and still feel as relaxed as you did on land, you obtain a true sense of peace – one type that speaks from the heart, makes the soul listen, and the brain agree.
If you want to read more poetry from the dingo diaries or other short stories, feel free to mail me at olgriz@gmail.com.
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