Lost in a tangle of moonlight and memories.
A soft song, a wet street,
a glass of whiskey on the rocks.
I am lost in my heart,
a steamy, twisted mess.
Lost in warm dreams,
lost in late night prophecies.
I pen my poetry onto the pad,
hand shaking, moving too fast.
I strip my soul for all to see,
a naked string of words about my insides.
About how lost i am in my mind,
about what tears me up,
and what keeps me alive.
I speak about love and loss,
like someone who has watched it go by.
Waved from the window
at it's fading taillights.
at it's fading taillights.
I used to think it would come back around,
cross the long bridge and
arrive at dawn on my doorstep.
arrive at dawn on my doorstep.
Now i know we say goodbye and turn
away from the window,
towards other things
towards other things
that don't hurt as badly.
Yet, we are lost in our quest
for the truth, to find it or deny it.
for the truth, to find it or deny it.
We walk in the other direction
taking wrong turns,
taking wrong turns,
arriving somewhere unknown.
Blinking in bright lights,
blinking back tears,
blinking back tears,
to flex our false muscles,
to suck in our stomachs
to suck in our stomachs
and appear more ideal, more beautiful.
Pushed out chest and raised eyebrow,
lost in our desire to be desired.
We walk with tired feet,
along dark winding roads,
along dark winding roads,
lost in the night, heading for dawn.
Lingering at our doorsteps
for that love to show up.
for that love to show up.
It's almost that time,
it's crossing the bridge,
it's crossing the bridge,
sun rising to the right.
If we walk inside, it might just drive by.
Stand there in rumpled clothes,
reeking of smoke, voices hoarse from
screaming our ideologies all night.
reeking of smoke, voices hoarse from
screaming our ideologies all night.
Tattered and lost, i look down the street,
for just a few moments more,
watching for headlights
watching for headlights
to cut through the emptiness.
Faith hurts more than closed windows,
and the day is steady growing,
so i turn from the light
so i turn from the light
to climb the stairs to my bed,
but there's a light on in my window,
just in case someone is looking.
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This work by mysticdave is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License.
This is beautiful. I don't think anybody will find themselves unable to connect to this on some level.
ReplyDeleteSomehow, I do understand where you're coming from Dave. I'm in this kind of state myself most of the time. And, yes, writing down what's inside of you somehow takes the mess out of your mind. Works pretty well for me. Very nice post. Keep it going and stay cool. =)
ReplyDeleteDave, you are such a wonderful poet. This one reeks of loneliness, and yet so beautifully written...
ReplyDeleteI've been grappling with death in my recent poetry. Please check it out and tell me what you think: http://hubpages.com/hub/httpwwwTheothersideofnothingnessAdifferentperspectivecom/
Stunning poem of anxiety, solitude and inspiration as well. The photo is a mirror of the poem. Very well done.
ReplyDelete"Faith hurts more than closed windows."
ReplyDeletePoignantly sad, that longing for connection.
another great work!! you seem not only connected with your ow feelings but able to stir feelings in others and write them down in a way we can we relate.
ReplyDeleteThis is wonderful Dave! I as read this, I can feel the momentum building with each and every descriptive verse. Excellent job my friend:))
ReplyDeleteBeautiful poem, I just love the last two lines about the light in the window.
ReplyDeletevery beautiful poem dear.. keep sharing..
ReplyDeletePowerful words, words that relate to life, mine and that of many others.
ReplyDeleteThis pricks my heart. I feel your words intensely. Profoundly beautiful.
ReplyDelete