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the-wandererPoems
As I lay sedated upon my La-Z-Boy recliner, cup of whiskey from my good friend John in my hand. I slowly start to fade off........ and then I hear it. A mothers six string crying in the distance. I perk up my ears to make sure I'm not delusional or dreaming, .....and again it wails. Then as if touched by purple rain myself, the magic grows louder. Suddenly a harp is being hummed and I swear I hear a saxophone singing the blues. I look out my window and it's as if the top hats and tom-tom's are banging through the crowd. Faintly, I hear that joyous cry. Now it may just be me, but there must be some kind of way outta here is parallel to having a dream. I listen longer and I hear my sugar pie sing and my honey bunch smiles, and for a minute I forget all about why this malted bevy was placed in my hand, and I escape to a far away place. To a place where Rapunzel lets down her hair for me and ******* and whiskey flow free, but then as if struck by a sixteen ton truck, I am snapped back into that place I was trying to forget. And again I hang my head and cry, because now, it's just another day, where I heard, the music, die.
0
Aug 3, 2013
Aug 3, 2013 at 11:01 PM UTC
Listen to the Music.
As I lay sedated upon my La-Z-Boy recliner, cup of whiskey from my good friend John in my hand. I slowly start to fade off........ and then I hear it. A mothers six string crying in the distance. I perk up my ears to make sure I'm not delusional or dreaming, .....and again it wails. Then as if touched by purple rain myself, the magic grows louder. Suddenly a harp is being hummed and I swear I hear a saxophone singing the blues. I look out my window and it's as if the top hats and tom-tom's are banging through the crowd. Faintly, I hear that joyous cry. Now it may just be me, but there must be some kind of way outta here is parallel to having a dream. I listen longer and I hear my sugar pie sing and my honey bunch smiles, and for a minute I forget all about why this malted bevy was placed in my hand, and I escape to a far away place. To a place where Rapunzel lets down her hair for me and ******* and whiskey flow free, but then as if struck by a sixteen ton truck, I am snapped back into that place I was trying to forget. And again I hang my head and cry, because now, it's just another day, where I heard, the music, die.
the-wanderer
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the-wanderer
Aug 3, 2013
Aug 3, 2013 at 11:01 PM UTC
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