Posts Tagged ‘poetry’

Engine, engine, number nine,
On the New York transit line,
If my train goes off the track,
Pick it up! Pick it up! Pick it up!

I’m always bewildered by the random information that my mind chooses to remember. I suspect in this particular case VH1 may be to blame, as I seem to recall watching a show about seminal moments in hip-hop history. Of course why I chose not to change the channel is beyond me especially as my taste in music can best be described as bordering on eclectic and dabbling in non-existent. It’s not that I don’t enjoy music, but rather I tend to function without it.

You’re more likely to find me with my nose in a book, than having the stereo blaring. In fact I’m one of those bizarre types that appreciates peace and quiet, while I’m busy losing myself in another world. Even having the TV on in the background is what I would term an unnecessary distraction.

It’s a strange admission to concede that music isn’t exactly a focal point in my life. After all I do have somewhat of a poetic streak running through me. Admittedly it is a hidden talent if I can call it that. I can imagine it lying dusty and forgotten in the corner of one of the rooms in my mind. It only tends to rise to the surface when there’s a bit of melodrama in my life, like the creativity is fuelled by confrontation or commiserations.

I can only hope that writing poetry is like riding a bike. That no matter how long the hiatus, like an eager mistress she’ll be there waiting with slippers in one hand and a pipe in the other. A part of me misses writing poetry, and yet there is another part that is content that asks, ‘why rock the boat’?

Perhaps I’m oversimplifying and using the lack of drama to justify my creative inertia. Maybe if I just put pen to paper I’ll be surprised by the way the letters arrange themselves…

I sometimes wonder where all the years have gone

And this song

Starts up in my head

And it says maybe you’re just too well read

 

My how you’ve grown

Look at all the chances you’ve blown

Is it time for show and tell

I guess not but I’ll be sure to see you in hell

 

Another year rolls by

And all I remember is the sound you make when you cry

Was it just for my benefit?

Because now I’m feeling less than terrific

 

I’m not sure where this bus goes

Or why it’s so slow

But I’ve got this map in my hand

And I got a feeling that it’s time to make a stand

 

The miles stop and start

But they’re curing my broken heart

I’m a dreamer without a dream

A leaf floating in a stream

 

They say dead men tell no tales

But there’s no nail

In my coffin just yet

Just a bunch of regrets

 

Perhaps I’m too young to be feeling this way

I just need to take it day by day

Let my imagination hitchhike out of this nowhere place

Because life’s a journey not a race

Chronic Compulsion

Posted: July 9, 2012 in Poems
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She stuttered her broken words

Like captured birds

Festering in a cage

They were all that remained of her pent up rage

 

I turn the page

 

It’s a new morning

Broken glass is falling

Cutting my feet

I die a little each time I sleep

 

Our memories weep

 

An affair of the mind

The truth is hard to find

You’re my one regret

A scar that’s hard to forget

 

I pray it’s not permanent

 

A kiss is just a kiss

I hurtle into the abyss

Where light fades to black

I’m reminded of everything I lack

 

Including you and I can’t have you back

CURTAIN CALL

Posted: February 20, 2012 in Poems
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There’s a poem crawling out my throat waiting to be written

The bug has bitten

Screaming at me

Why can’t you see?

 

I pause

Let the elevator in my mind change floors

It needs to be an opus

I’m desirous of a purpose

 

It’s a sweaty secret

A baby blue blanket

That gently caresses your breast

And rises and falls with each and every breath

 

You have a confusing way

Of mouthing the words but you never actually say

How you feel

Because somehow then it would lose its appeal

 

You caught me off guard

It’s like a broken shard

That indelicately breaks my skin

Giving me my hit of heroin

 

My hands no longer shake

That’s how it equates

I’m an addict

And you’re dealing in magic

 

I’m walking a tight wire

Playing with fire

I know I should look but not touch

But it’s like I can’t walk and you’re my crutch

 

I know you’re going to drag me down

But I’ll go gladly without making a sound

You are my obsession

My body and my thoughts are your possession

 

I know we’ll never be together in the true sense of the word

And that strikes me as faintly absurd

But you make the bed in which you lie

And my morals are the bargaining chips with which I compromise

 

I am only destined to have you for now

Soon the performance will be over and you’ll take a bow