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mike-bergeronPoems
Repeating with The frequency Of apologies, "I'm not here, This isn't happening," While my head Spins, and my Innards lurch Like carnival Ride children, "I'm not here, This isn't happening," The chaos, The orderly Passage of red Faced spectators Drifting through space, Their classic attempts To embrace and Disengage, Grinning at what Can't be erased, "I'm not here, This isn't happening," Like the sound of Hopes cast into The depths of hell, Glinting tokens You can't see Seconds after you Drop them in, I'm the air, I'm the disillusionment That lets you know When to be scared, The anvil in Your gut telling you To stop, I am the sweat That drips Like morphine Into post-mortem Pathways through A needle That needs sharpening, "I'm not here, This isn't happening," This is just a test, As they say, It'll all be ok Once some obese ***** wails, The levees are stressed And the horsemen Idle and wait for the fail, For the flood Of repentance, Of common Indecency, For the blood From Ahab's whale To initiate The shackling Of the sorrowfully Undeclared, "I'm not here, This isn't happening."
0
Nov 10, 2012
Nov 10, 2012 at 12:33 AM UTC
--A Few Drinks--
Repeating with The frequency Of apologies, "I'm not here, This isn't happening," While my head Spins, and my Innards lurch Like carnival Ride children, "I'm not here, This isn't happening," The chaos, The orderly Passage of red Faced spectators Drifting through space, Their classic attempts To embrace and Disengage, Grinning at what Can't be erased, "I'm not here, This isn't happening," Like the sound of Hopes cast into The depths of hell, Glinting tokens You can't see Seconds after you Drop them in, I'm the air, I'm the disillusionment That lets you know When to be scared, The anvil in Your gut telling you To stop, I am the sweat That drips Like morphine Into post-mortem Pathways through A needle That needs sharpening, "I'm not here, This isn't happening," This is just a test, As they say, It'll all be ok Once some obese ***** wails, The levees are stressed And the horsemen Idle and wait for the fail, For the flood Of repentance, Of common Indecency, For the blood From Ahab's whale To initiate The shackling Of the sorrowfully Undeclared, "I'm not here, This isn't happening."
"I'm not here, this isn't happening" Credit to Radiohead
mike-bergeron
Written by
mike-bergeron
American
Nov 10, 2012
Nov 10, 2012 at 12:33 AM UTC
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