Adventure by Ollie

A Search for Purpose in a Random World


March 2017

Drawn in the Sand

waves come in, into the shore, rub up against silent musings

all the unspoken stories, the final ones, left behind- lines drawn in the sand

the willet and the sanderling, the small and gentle plover,

sea gulls come and mark them over, just in case, God didn’t see, or care,

or wasn’t listening, and tears away the words while picking for gems

left, lost behind, in the breeze, in the lines drawn in the sand,

on the shore while waves come in, rubbing up against all the small stones,

the fine grains, the powder soft grit, shells and driftwood,

until the tide rolls out and in and out and in and out and in

and some bird carries the words freely and quietly away

into the expanse of blue nothing they call a sky,

but sometimes a few of those words which slip and fall away

find themselves washed ashore again, spelled out amongst the seaweed,

unearthed from some watery grave, where

perhaps it should have stayed, but still that is how

I come to find myself silently musing over

your words once more, and they follow me again, and the waves come in.


Rocky River Bed

When I look in the hand glass, hand glass,

all I see is gold, see gold, see gold

shining up from the deep blue, deep blue

too deep for you in the clear blue, clear blue

rocky mountain river bed head, bed head,

and it’s not my fault dear, fault dear, not my

dear oh dear, that you wrecked your truck there, truck there,

there’s no despair for your truck dear, wrecked there,

couldn’t care, couldn’t care, couldn’t care less, care less,

for your mess, what a mess, such a mess,

mess you made, when you laid in my

blue mountain river bed head, bed head,

what I made in my sweet, what a sweet treat, sweet meat;

pretty little wrecked trophy, little trophy in my bed.


Home in me,

and I in you,

the pulsing, raging, blood red lust

breathes against the window pane

creates a mist and drips beneath the heat

how we conquer mind numbing nothingness

beats me, beatsmebeatsmebeatsmebeatsmebeatsme

and I remember wishing she would just beat me like that

instead of blessing me with words like this,

“You’re worthless,” and “You’ll never be.”

and I agree, you are better at home in me –

How we kink it up, phone chord tangled around fingers and ask

how are you? No. No safe wordsnosafewordsnosafewordssafewordssafewords

just truth.

Body Talk

Talk about my body,

beautiful like yours,

curves that fill up the room

and continue to expand:

meant to be seen and tasted.

There is bread and butter; there is wine.

Let it overflow,

like heaven’s glory.

Let it come rushing –

deep water breaking free.

Your steps mean war –


Let every animal, man, and spirit

know you are here.

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