Beggarman on Avalon

You do not tell me

Of unique meanings

Like the contentment

Of conscience clear

Of offense.

I threw away

The cola can

And you scamper

To reclaim it

From some changing scenes:

Posh communities in Malibu

Opulence in Palos Verdes

Abundance in Jack in the Box

More abundance in Home Town Buffett

This last one where,

Like my folks back home,

You bet on good luck

And good omen

On first Fridays

And the Mondays of mercies

From some rotten relics.

I tell you: these stories

Of abandon and neglect

Are the same everywhere.

They butcher the body.

They singe the spirit.

They maim the mind.

They mortgage man,

All, but only the everyday man,

The ordinary, those who do not know

The falsities of food

Earned honestly

And to live differently

Other than

Being caught in a big lie.

I tell you, beggarman

On Avalon, our destinies

Are the same

And have intertwined

And the pot of gold

At rainbow's end will be ours

In the earnestness of our desires

To live and let live

To go on and flow on

And move on in these rivers

That we see and we do not see.

And we will swim and swim

And the Avalon will become

A joyous journey to springtimes.

Aurelio S. Agcaoili

Artesia, CA

Nov. 23, 2004

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