A Wandering Mind

I wonder sometimes where it is I might go,

if given the opportunity

the freedom to walk away from everything

mechanical in my mind.

You see,

there is a kind of volley of emotion

we live by,

we cannot forget or perhaps

we wish we might be the one,

whom always does

need a reminder,

a reminder to live our lives

in the present

without reflection,

no memory

that might bring us down,

for there is the rub,

that down-trodden personality

the one that seemingly

‘makes us stronger’

in the end when it is far too late.

Too late,

you might beg for an option,

and quite simply there is,

but until you decide,

had enough

that fantasy remains strong

as we age,

stronger forever,

an eternal duel with what works

and what unravels in time

for a crisis to engulf …

my state of mind.


© Thom Amundsen 9/2021

Searching Repeat

We just landed

on the ground that is,

could have been talking about a launch off a tree limb,

you know the branches let you choose

autumn leaves,

or a concrete sidewalk.

Suppose it depends on where we are

when we decide to jump

that leap that decision to take a risk,

knowing only a couple of broken bones

are far better than a broken life.


© Thom Amundsen 9/2021

Saying Anything

In a moment alone

we in the present

widen our scope of judgment

lacking a dialogue

a helpful manner of speaking.

~

If heard on the other side of the room

having little direction

a construable offense

would be the second another

guest

spoke from the heart without any filter

none at all.

~

To undermine each other

would be in some circles

meant as a challenge

to better oneself,

to out duel the most tedious

exercise in humility,

little restraint would be necessary

to make an ass of the luxury

of having peace of mind.

~

When words become a monument

we need visualize

the climb,

each stone and rock and slide and flounder

would then reciprocate

some turnabout way

we might let our lives intermingle

meandering down some path

to a settling ground.

~

With only words the night would heavy

wait for opportunity to find silence.


© Thom Amundsen 9/2021

This Little Man

He exists only in some plan

a diversion of mine and hers

we are lost in our own hearts

one simple flare of the Man.

~

Seems there can be a truth,

we listen, bear our hearts

without worry of wrath, imparts

a cycle of hurt so very uncouth.

~

If in God’s eyes he train the mind

to live on its own accord, afford

our lives to bury the sword.

Live with love is our humankind.

~

How do we know to forget

or is a stored energy we play

for the autumn is nearer today

fears that stubborn scorn let.

~

Let them lift their bodies cold

find a sweet warmth spoken

a slow and harmonic plan

will lives to share love so bold.

~

Once while observe the moon a crescent

without the whole she could not be present.


© Thom Amundsen 9/2021

In This Quiet Space

Though patterns seem to exist

the idea of recreating the wheel

pops into mind

every breaking day.

How would lives become independent

with working the reality

of our dreams

aspirations.

How do we step away from routine,

the quiet horror of being

caught up in the mundane

the same old,

the victory just beyond our reach

sometimes unattainable.

In this our quiet space

can we speak to the place,

the origins of a value

that carries our hearts beyond

the simple pursuit we live.


© Thom Amundsen 9/2021

All These Voices

Thoughtful serenades fill an empty room

no one looking just the me and mine.

He wonders if it is always such gloom

or are we left without our favorite wine.

~

Seems the cadence of our party restrained

by motive, by aspiration, by silent neglect.

When race horses begin, know what is gained

yet miss a step and it is a horror so perfect.

~

Want to tell all the voices to leave my head alone

I can’t stand to hear the constant berated tone

I can’t stand to hear the constant berated tone

can’t stand the berated tone.

~

The next time he stood alone at the precipice

He wished some sort of respite from his world.

Everything he had seemed suddenly at risk

He thought again and then his mind he twirled.

~

can’t stand the berated tone

out of my head haunting clone

out of my head haunting clone


© Thom Amundsen 9/2021

A Simpler Life

If life begins here the now is today

well there has to be another way

said the disgruntled fellow

standing in the gallows.

We choose to live the way we do

based upon values, me and you,

not that far away from everyone

seems somehow often over done.

Once in a midnight sky not so far

away, I felt my body to be at war.

With sudden gasp I exhaled my life

only to know a sedentary world is rife

with unpleasantries and negativity

all of the symptoms of inadequacy.

Speaking to a friend of mine tonight

I came to terms with just how I might

live out the rest of my days

in some more comfortable ways.

There isn’t a lot gained in crying

when reaching out without trying.


© Thom Amundsen  9/2021

Sedentary State of Mind

Walking home one afternoon,

I noticed she cared about my world.

She was always the center of

my attention,

a popular girl I was privileged

walking her home every afternoon,

climbing actual hills

winding paths

until our homes a block apart

appeared on the horizon,

indicating now my time

would wane

her goings to her world

mine to my own.

There was nothing sedentary in my world

when she might speak to my state of mind.


© Thom Amundsen  9/2021