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william-stanfordPoems
When it all got to be a bit too much I reasoned my way into a corner Sat there silent Stapled my bottom lip to my convictions And called it poetry We all pretend to have ways to cope Write a poem Pretense and prophetic anthems Some say it better than this It’s harder with through staples I didn’t know how to pull them out So I learned to drive Pressed mute minutes into the pavement Pulled prayers from the asphalt It’s all I was good at Taking long steps On the last night I lived there, I stood on my mother’s front porch Holding everything I was in one hand Everything I could have been in the other And clenched my fists like a fighter Denied the daylight Spit in the face of the night Drowned expectations in the dawn Counted 148 bricks between the front step and the streetlight Illuminating 4 wheels and one way out Kissed each brick with my boot heel Packed my belongings in the backseat And my longings in the bags beneath my eyes Put pedal to promise Peeled out and pretended That we all run away When it all got to be too much I bit rubber into ground And wrote myself a letter saying: “Someday, kid, Someday you’ll be found.”
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Apr 11, 2011
Apr 11, 2011 at 10:36 PM UTC
The Last Night
When it all got to be a bit too much I reasoned my way into a corner Sat there silent Stapled my bottom lip to my convictions And called it poetry We all pretend to have ways to cope Write a poem Pretense and prophetic anthems Some say it better than this It’s harder with through staples I didn’t know how to pull them out So I learned to drive Pressed mute minutes into the pavement Pulled prayers from the asphalt It’s all I was good at Taking long steps On the last night I lived there, I stood on my mother’s front porch Holding everything I was in one hand Everything I could have been in the other And clenched my fists like a fighter Denied the daylight Spit in the face of the night Drowned expectations in the dawn Counted 148 bricks between the front step and the streetlight Illuminating 4 wheels and one way out Kissed each brick with my boot heel Packed my belongings in the backseat And my longings in the bags beneath my eyes Put pedal to promise Peeled out and pretended That we all run away When it all got to be too much I bit rubber into ground And wrote myself a letter saying: “Someday, kid, Someday you’ll be found.”
william-stanford
Written by
william-stanford
American
Apr 11, 2011
Apr 11, 2011 at 10:36 PM UTC
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