#7 : IMMOBILE IN A MOBILE

I spy from my car,
a sight not too far.
War games in a lovers' park,
A small crowd,
Gathers around,
All watching,
But not a sound.

I move on,
To a kind khaki,
Uniformed with a smile
A smile he hides behind a cheap
Black mask,
Ushering, angry honkers
Driven completely bonkers
By a strange city
A city painted Grey in pigeons and concrete.

So here I am,
Stuck in a car,
following a few
cows trying to drive a car,
Drowning myself in music,
Immobile in a mobile,
Wondering , if I have finally given up?
On this you and we?
If I have finally given up,
On this kingdom of polity?
On days like this, when I listen close,
I often hear my self repeat,
"Empty your self
To fill your soul"
"Empty your self
To fill your soul".