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 Mar 2016 Damian Murphy
nina
my ipod
 Mar 2016 Damian Murphy
nina
music isn't happy
music isn't sad
music tells a story
a story that drives us mad.
I could hear her laughing
On the other side of the darkness
The echoes resonate in my ear
I float there like a carcass
Unable to produce an explanation
There's a certain sharpness
'Where's it coming from?'
I grab my ears like a harness
Pulling at it like a parachute.

I could hear her laughing
On the other side of the darkness
She takes the easy path in
Leaving me in an utter dark mess.
I could hear her laughing
The constant laughing like a kid
Wind escaping me, gasping,
She is a saucepan without a lid
Constant reverberations of laughter
Maybe she came to find her happiness
Her happily ever after.

I could hear her laughing
On the other side of the darkness
And I reciprocate with laughter
Nestling in between my parka .
[Tales of my late best friend. Tales of the one person who truly understood me]
As lazy days turn to night
wasted days steal your life
oddly it seems,we just can't see
the bountiful harvest
that waits for thee

We stumble and bumble
as weeks turn to years staring so blindly
as smiles turn to tears
tending the gardens intentions have made
while riding along in life's parade

The time passes faster
the older you grow
while perspective runs deeper
as experience's flow
the river of life
is long and winding
with rapids and backwaters
so keep your sight keen
my son is a better version of me

i easily break
he rides storms smilingly

i crumble in a crisis
he handles stoically

my emotions play loud on face
he hides it handsomely

i'm doubtful of exploring
he ventures courageously

i speculate on life too much
he bothers not seriously
 Mar 2016 Damian Murphy
Ry Elle
Why are we so quick
to refer to a story we've read
or heard,
in past tense?
As if just because we're done with it, it no longer exists
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