Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
Got a condition Under my skin Ain't going to be solved With simple addition These days are short These hours are long I'm whispering to myself In a tune of a song Here comes Greg the gong Standing straight as he cracks his knuckles His face his old, his robes are grey He tells me, "Your stomach looks like it's about to buckle." Outside the cafe We sip on coffee and biscuits Looking at a world Caught up in its own mischief Lies are spread thin Truth a little thinner Then, we see something move Behind the building of the barber We go to look and later on Wished we were a little smarter We saw A rock painted in blood An eye inside of a glove I nod my head and Greg tries to say, "Death is a caught fish in a stream far away." The night fell like an anvil Onto my sagging shoulders I was never taught the rules So I can't say I've forgotten them Caught in a fix of my own creation Where the truth and the lies mix "There's nothing in this life that is quick" I nodded my head at him and paid my tip Catch the break in the pause "Smells phosphorous," she smiled. I've travled a thousand miles But what I've seen Never amounted to nothing After I saw her She was the cat's purr And the dog's meow The air behind The desert winds frown I'm torn apart Left for dead Waiting for that moment When one become two Wishing I'd chosen The other instead Can't see a way out The tunnel's caved in Dynamite went bad Only darkness around me now And I'm struggling to breathe There was no light No way away from myself I tried to recall Everything I'd ever touched But all I felt was Soot in my nose And rocks in my eyes And then a phrase came to me, "It was all a big lie." I died and became The whistling kettle Of an unreleased song By a well-known singer A whisper whose sound would be better If shouted by a heated young lover There is a night Without vanity or despair Where life runs free Without injustice or duty or care Find that Night Seek it Search for it And take what you were born for Find the Night
0
Jan 16, 2013
Jan 16, 2013 at 4:19 PM UTC
Find the Night
Got a condition Under my skin Ain't going to be solved With simple addition These days are short These hours are long I'm whispering to myself In a tune of a song Here comes Greg the gong Standing straight as he cracks his knuckles His face his old, his robes are grey He tells me, "Your stomach looks like it's about to buckle." Outside the cafe We sip on coffee and biscuits Looking at a world Caught up in its own mischief Lies are spread thin Truth a little thinner Then, we see something move Behind the building of the barber We go to look and later on Wished we were a little smarter We saw A rock painted in blood An eye inside of a glove I nod my head and Greg tries to say, "Death is a caught fish in a stream far away." The night fell like an anvil Onto my sagging shoulders I was never taught the rules So I can't say I've forgotten them Caught in a fix of my own creation Where the truth and the lies mix "There's nothing in this life that is quick" I nodded my head at him and paid my tip Catch the break in the pause "Smells phosphorous," she smiled. I've travled a thousand miles But what I've seen Never amounted to nothing After I saw her She was the cat's purr And the dog's meow The air behind The desert winds frown I'm torn apart Left for dead Waiting for that moment When one become two Wishing I'd chosen The other instead Can't see a way out The tunnel's caved in Dynamite went bad Only darkness around me now And I'm struggling to breathe There was no light No way away from myself I tried to recall Everything I'd ever touched But all I felt was Soot in my nose And rocks in my eyes And then a phrase came to me, "It was all a big lie." I died and became The whistling kettle Of an unreleased song By a well-known singer A whisper whose sound would be better If shouted by a heated young lover There is a night Without vanity or despair Where life runs free Without injustice or duty or care Find that Night Seek it Search for it And take what you were born for Find the Night
Written by
Jan 16, 2013
Jan 16, 2013 at 4:19 PM UTC
Request permission to use this poem