14 January 2009 The Day I got inked again
 
These are the days
When
I am a 
Wanderer &
A listener
I turn my ears
To the city's
Voices and sounds
The vacated
Market square
Calls a beat in
Fours
With the stress
On the first
Drums
Pounding
Endless rhythm
1-2-3-4
And
1-2-3-4
The library
Chess game
Has cultures
At play
Vocal support
And laughter
On every move
The tattoo parlour
Plays its music loud
And has the high pitched
Nagging sound of
Needles inking
Skin
These are the days
When I am
Just curious
About life around
Me
As it manifests
Itself in
Decibels
Bits of conversation
Words unconnected
Spinning a long
Yarn
Of
Unity
Ultimately
Biking around
I pick up the
School kids' words
On things cool
In their new fangled
Lingo
That I don't speak
I drink the
Sounds
Pure
No mixed drink or
Watered down
Version
It's strong liquor
I can take
That
Hold my own
And hold it down
Cars honk
My bike's wheels
Splash the 
Silent puddles into
Tiny voices
The young boy
Who's accompanying
His mum in
Inkstitution
Taps his feet on
Maiden's
Can I play with
Madness
Sights and
Sounds
Still me
Silence me
Humble me
Feed me
Cuddle me
My words
Stay
Unspoken
My ears are
Filled
My tongue
Takes a break
I am
Continually
Listening
To 
All
Around