Day 347: Parking Lots

Probably one of the most random places we miss while going through our day are parking lots. These vast array and spaces with parked cars , some that leave and a few that come in to replace their space. No better example of transitivity among the non living , and yet something that is purely tied to the idea of being calm, being at rest, being parked even if for a bit. Something more permanent even if momentary within that changing nature of these places. Such as some thoughts that come and stay a little longer, that have been known to reserve places and some that like the unclaimed ones collect tickets and refuse to move. For now inspiration truly comes from the strangest places, probably the quieter ones, probably the empty ones at best.

Parking Lots
You are still in my head, like a parked car
Unchanging even if for a little bit, right where you are
These sides of the car door I hold open for you
I am wishing for these thoughts that you have let through

I am puddles of rain that you splash as you slow down
You wait for a while or maybe you sometime turn around
Drive around tirelessly till the end of this day
Without road maps in your heads, without a place to stay

You are still the paint on the sides, the details I rarely miss
While I am the wind on your windshield trying to steal a kiss
Wishful thinking as the song on the radio get loud
You are whispering to me, while I hear the whole world shout

You are still in my head and parked in a parking lot
You are thoughts I remember, even if chances were I forgot
Still places on land , just places to lay down and sleep
Maybe nostalgia that is too sweet and yet the only thing you keep

Day 346: Just Listening

There is a weird connection between those who listen and talk. There are those who feel compelled to do either of the two and then those who are put in situations. I have been late in choosing the last few writings as the year draws to a close at least in a blog and I have no excuse but that I have been trying to listen to things that often do not speak. Whether they are the mood of the day, the rain outside or the often long stretches of hours sitting on a chair. In the quiet moments, I am trying to make sense of the things I claim to know for sure and some that in time become fonder and more expressed. Maybe I am on repeat like the records on a loop but I am listening to you as I write a few, tell me you are talking back too?

Just Listening
To me, you are among the only things I know for sure
You are waves that I can touch and feel on the shore
These things that want me to slow the day down
Not knowing how to keep them for long or even around

So I listen to you like old records on a gramophone
When I am in a crowd but maybe feeling alone
While the lyrics and the music they blend in the rain
We figure out our own address or from where we came.

Just listening for now, to whoever needs to talk
Trying the long road home, with more time to walk
As I mellow just a little bit, trying to pour my thoughts
Strong drinks that stay on the sides of a paper cup

I am dog-eared chapters, folded up in a magazine
The ones you get to read when you find time in between
While the world may need to talk, I listen for now
Writing more chapters, wishing to be bookmarked somehow

Day 345: Memories of a Dream

Sometimes the most comfortable thing to do is to not make plans. It is in accepting that there is something beautiful about finding things as they happen. In the moment of these quiet and restless inspirations, we are able to write, draw, sing and sometimes simply be. All I sometimes need is the feeling that the lines between dreams are blurry at best, maybe these are memories of things that are yet to happen. Maybe wishing for things or maybe sometimes accepting time as it comes to you, in perfect packages of 24 hours and yet feeling they are never enough. For now memories of a dream is what I wake up with, maybe even act upon. After all, we are storytellers as we write stories everyday.
Keep dreaming and tonight enjoy just an extra hour of sleep if you may :)

Memories of a Dream
The alto and the tenors that in my head they play
While we sing some songs, that in our memories stay
We are doing our best, dreaming what we need
Finding our winnings and never accepting defeat

The paintings on a napkin page or writings we exchange
As though codes in a hidden language that only we can create
While the cold days refuse to let go of us; for now
You are still the month of May, I am stuck in April somehow

Memories of a dream we remember so clear
Things that feel so true and the ones we hold dear
Then again, we are day dreamers & realist alike
We are singing as though on stage but without a mic

These days that are somewhere in between transitions
Between thoughts and some restless inspirations
We are unplanned at best, we are somehow at ease
Hoping for more memories, in dreams when we sleep