Yoga from (S)words by Bob Gaulke

Yoga

help me to relax
world's going mad

pull the hooks
out of my back

you manage to stay calm
without doing wrong

I wanna curl up
in your lap

downward facing dog
city full of smog

peaceful warrior
wall street banker

half-lotus pose
cocained asshole

(I) try to make sense of it
(I’d) rather share your happiness

when you bend and stretch
you look just like a cat

screaming in the streets
through your nap

oh my flaming-barge
sidestroke-box-of-matches

whatever’s up
it don’t leave scratches

reaching for the sky
one hand on your thigh

want to get inside
that look in your eyes

one-legged tree
all I need

is carved initials
in your life

• Alternative
• World
• brazilian
• eighties pop
• singer-songwriter
• troubador
• The Bronx