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ashby-brownPoems
Doubtful of the future As our wooden furniture Creaks and cracks Like wounded soldiers sutures House on the edge of the water The Earth shows to Only be getting hotter Heaven may only be a starter I've asked all my questions Meandering in drunken perspiration The moon hangs laughing Behind my back Where I was before this I can't keep track Trams, metros, terror colored in streetlights All souls around me barely giving off light Piano man plays with broken fingernails Screaming he's guiltier than all that is wrong or right Could have beens Would have beens Should have beens Sticky black tar regret Stare at the sun and Unveil the lie they've Been telling you all along I wrote something That looked like something That came before I wrote that other something And when I read that something And read the other something Both seemed to be about Nothing and nothing As well as All of the above Staring at the stove top She lays upstairs in bed Silence atop these fingertips Secrets flying high In this unstrung kite A cloud stubs his toe The sun makes His move I feel like a real man Acting like I have a plan Too fast some days Other days Too slow Proving routine Is the curse of the Owner's of the silver spoon I hang on the edge of A smooth, round beer bottle My hardened fingertips Show to be slipping I'm lost in a sea of forgiveness Frantically keeping my head afloat While smiling to myself that I left The life vests tied upon the boat My need for revenge has Sunk into The Black Sea Bitterness was such a boring feeling Like an old ring I was always wearing I hand out my pleases Like ripped off store candies Everybody's got their maybes ready I look at my hand and see its steady This day This month This year or so away From home is Showing me Only I Know where I need to go Let the snow fall The government post what they will High up where we can't reach on the wall All will be remembered All will be forgiven one day The last man to laugh Will be He who believes not In His own trap
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Nov 8, 2012
Nov 8, 2012 at 4:18 PM UTC
Experimenting with Faith
Doubtful of the future As our wooden furniture Creaks and cracks Like wounded soldiers sutures House on the edge of the water The Earth shows to Only be getting hotter Heaven may only be a starter I've asked all my questions Meandering in drunken perspiration The moon hangs laughing Behind my back Where I was before this I can't keep track Trams, metros, terror colored in streetlights All souls around me barely giving off light Piano man plays with broken fingernails Screaming he's guiltier than all that is wrong or right Could have beens Would have beens Should have beens Sticky black tar regret Stare at the sun and Unveil the lie they've Been telling you all along I wrote something That looked like something That came before I wrote that other something And when I read that something And read the other something Both seemed to be about Nothing and nothing As well as All of the above Staring at the stove top She lays upstairs in bed Silence atop these fingertips Secrets flying high In this unstrung kite A cloud stubs his toe The sun makes His move I feel like a real man Acting like I have a plan Too fast some days Other days Too slow Proving routine Is the curse of the Owner's of the silver spoon I hang on the edge of A smooth, round beer bottle My hardened fingertips Show to be slipping I'm lost in a sea of forgiveness Frantically keeping my head afloat While smiling to myself that I left The life vests tied upon the boat My need for revenge has Sunk into The Black Sea Bitterness was such a boring feeling Like an old ring I was always wearing I hand out my pleases Like ripped off store candies Everybody's got their maybes ready I look at my hand and see its steady This day This month This year or so away From home is Showing me Only I Know where I need to go Let the snow fall The government post what they will High up where we can't reach on the wall All will be remembered All will be forgiven one day The last man to laugh Will be He who believes not In His own trap
Written by
ashby-brown
Nov 8, 2012
Nov 8, 2012 at 4:18 PM UTC
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