A Note on Extremes: Central Park Poetry

Got a more poetic feel for ya...

"written on the same day,
just a few steps away..."

This is interesting. (a bold opening? sounds dangerous, mysterious, and soo sexy! I know, right! You just want me, its natural, I accept it.) I have said it before but now I mean it. I thrive amongst the extremes. This spot I have found hidden in the Northeastern Campus is much like the natural rock recliner I found in the central park on that beautiful afternoon.

In the middle of two huge cities I found an Oasis. From concrete jungle to a more peaceful spot in the world. Both were shielded by its surroundings. The sounds of the city were vanished, the love in my heart flourished. I can never have just one. I must push in one direction and then fly back the other way. Normalcy is the death of me. Volatility is my savior. It alone can bring me to a peace I can appreciate, and a chaos I can conquer. In a day of self revelation, the wind has picked up and I must leave it until tonight.

Peer into my mind, but never my soul.

Peace and Love,
Scott

*************
The original from way back:
Under a Tree in NYC


Who would have thought there could be such peace amongst the chaos? My brother mentioned that when it comes to women, this is a city of extremes. Meaning, the women in this town are of two varieties. Either they are absolutely gorgeous, or absolutely the opposite. He may have been wiser than what I gave him credit for. Although Sean is mostly right about the women, (god is he right) that same principle may be applied to this place on a broader sense.

I sit here in central park on a rock conveniently shaped as a reclining beach chair under a wonderful berry tree that will surely fuck up my clothes with stains, but that is my only worry. I am in a moment of the purest form of mental extacy. Amidst the hustle, the stress, the most grandiose city in the world is an oasis. Within this handsome redhead (you could even say gorgeous) that loves to live life in the fast lane is a peaceful place. A chill mode unmatched by pot heads and monks alike. Comparable yet completely opposite from a midwestern wilderness, central park offers that extreme. This is not a matter of good and bad, for I love and enjoy both. There is a time and a desire for both sides of the spectrum. They are apart of the city as much as they are apart of me.

As I sit in this spot I begin to love this place. Overlooking a pond, underneath a skyline, I am in love. This is not enfatuation but a deep appreciation for all that it gives up for me. It is the kind of love that wont change even if she does. It is the kind of love that has remained through change. This swooping trunk seems to cater to my personal space bubble as if she knew I needed it. She doesn;t get too close, but wraps its canopy around me as to give me the protection I need. (forgot the SPF 50!) It will even protect from the drizzling clouds. Wish you were here?

A plane above tries to shatter my dream of peace but I am already deep asleep. Passed the point of no return, I no longer rely on ignorance to supply my bliss. This is genuine. This is real.

What one would typically be missing is someone to share this with. However, I have both my other half and my hotel notepad to make up for that. As complete as its own person, my other extreme is shown a glimpse of the other side. I record my soul onto paper, but with no intention of merging the two. I like my steak done medium, but not my personality!


Inevitable. Sean is texting me to come meet him, but it is hard to leave this peace. I think I will pack it up and take it with me! After all, I am in a deep lucid dream here. Although I CLEARLY love myself, I also love him. I will return to this place when it is time to reach nirvana, enlightenment, and heaven. By then my recliner might have less of a left leaning slope.

Peace and Love,
Scott