disciple less prophets.
feeling like a prophet
with no disciples or apostles.
on a mountaintop,
i will start meditating on
all my ancient questions,
and then go on a quest.
in the middle of the west, the midwest,
my bones are found bare- barely there.
trekking towards the setting sun,
the final days of the empire
have begun,
and we its children
can assist in its fall.
from somewhere in the forest
of my thoughts,
i heard a tree fall,
and with my whole heart,
i gave it my all
trying to find what we’re
all searching for
while the stars in the heavens
serve us all as maps.
if only these city lights
weren’t so bright,
we wouldn’t be so lost.
my brothers and sisters,
we all share one common goal-
go to bed, get to sleep, then wake up,
and off to work
without feeling like such an asshole.
05.20.12.
UP!::urban po'E.Tree(s) 
Great thoughts on ink. Strength man!
…Just be weird
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locked in our boxes .. four degrees of
separation … left only with our
dreams … the world’s a
wasteland … trees fall in a world of
silence if no one hears them … shadows of
thought without
connection … take a lesson from your
students … they don’t even see the
city lights and the stars aren’t so
far away … the light that lives
within them they don’t even
know ! they just live it … but they don’t
know time …not yet anyway … and you know them
both … too bad you just can’t trade
places what with all you
know … it’s so hard to re-discover the
light … two worlds made into
one … only time will tell … we’re all on a quest to where it all
began and to know that place for the first
time ….
did you know i dedicated a poem to you recently ??? see part I of Purple Words …
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Thank you so much going to check out.
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Some nice references to modern stuff under the guise of an older principal, damn good wordidge too
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[…] (inspired by: https://urbanpoetrees.com/2014/12/31/disciple-less-prophets/ ) […]
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I am falling madly in love with your work. The first three stanzas showed me a place I call Otherwhere. It’s a place I go when I write. I love that place. I don’t know so much about the last verse, but the first three showed me a poem of my own reflection on this piece.
http://maremartell.com/2015/01/01/blind-sighted/
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“feeling like a prophet
with no disciples or apostles.
on a mountaintop”
Good stuff! If you started and ended right here it would be powerful…but each line, each additional thought builds on it, Thanks for sharing! I’m looking forward to so much more, I’ll be back.
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It’s Your Duty
The ten days
of spring, over now,
bring dust-rain volley, bow-tie
dances under sad
streets. This slow
city offers chance
encounters. Relationships
in tearless land mean
getting used
to work-hard love,
the kind that
pays off in respect.
Still, countless occupations
Influence beating
Hearts so shut,
Into lead boxes
that us spoiled visitors can’t
find what we know to
be human.
some make the leap, some
Force love on
historical foundations,
meaning they
must connect with those
who know the entire
reasons why
“hard work, no play love” adds up
to good life.
Vanquish excitement,
find love in floor scrub.
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I’ve been enjoying my visit to urban po’E.Trees(s) and I think this poem is my favorite so far, it sparked a lot of images in my mind.
I even took a peek inside Mr. Farusto’s Classroom, cool stuff!
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Thank you so much. That’s awesome.
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