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The old man A broken down factory Sagging within the crumbled graffiti of his skin Sits and stares out the window An anachronism Out of place among the smooth Modern hospital walls The man sits in his wheel chair The thrown of landless kings Carrying all the memories of his years Like a net Hauling in the silverfish of his stories Though many have swam away And in his hazy recollection He remembers the feeling of bare feet On summer grass sprinting The shotgun of a ball exploding From the barrel of his bat The hush of a spring storm As it dresses him and some lover All the shades of wet Staring out the window The old artifact Wiggles his proud toes Following them back to The night clubs in Chicago The handshake of the president And the feathery wings of jazz In his feeble arms he catches The kick of a rifle The whisper of a bullet As it reaches out to bury itself Into the lullaby of his bones The dirt of war in his teeth And the smell of burning hair But most of all he looks back On the empty picture frame The days that have blurred into Darkness and smoke What did I do on all the days I have forgotten This question hangs like the last petal Still clinging to the branches As the winter wind grows bold It is unfair he thinks And looks out among The dogwoods in full swaying dresses That line the hospital I am a barren husk Of bark and bone But this world blooms so brilliant Lean back in his chair The old man thinks I am so happy I got to see The trees laughing with the wind one last time And smiles like a toothless sunset His soul swallowing and swelling On all the beauty he has ever gathered Behind the cameras of his eyes So full of life that he can no longer hide it inside of him It must go dance with the blossoms When the nurse found him The tears had not dried off his cheek His mouth frozen into a smile Like a sunbeam burning through the clouds A single dogwood flower folded in his fingers As she looked upon the hallelujah of his death She wondered What secrets did you take with you You old geezer What was so beautiful You smiled so hard your heart broke When you saw the other side Did it have dogwoods
0
Dec 24, 2013
Dec 24, 2013 at 9:04 PM UTC
Second Bloom
The old man A broken down factory Sagging within the crumbled graffiti of his skin Sits and stares out the window An anachronism Out of place among the smooth Modern hospital walls The man sits in his wheel chair The thrown of landless kings Carrying all the memories of his years Like a net Hauling in the silverfish of his stories Though many have swam away And in his hazy recollection He remembers the feeling of bare feet On summer grass sprinting The shotgun of a ball exploding From the barrel of his bat The hush of a spring storm As it dresses him and some lover All the shades of wet Staring out the window The old artifact Wiggles his proud toes Following them back to The night clubs in Chicago The handshake of the president And the feathery wings of jazz In his feeble arms he catches The kick of a rifle The whisper of a bullet As it reaches out to bury itself Into the lullaby of his bones The dirt of war in his teeth And the smell of burning hair But most of all he looks back On the empty picture frame The days that have blurred into Darkness and smoke What did I do on all the days I have forgotten This question hangs like the last petal Still clinging to the branches As the winter wind grows bold It is unfair he thinks And looks out among The dogwoods in full swaying dresses That line the hospital I am a barren husk Of bark and bone But this world blooms so brilliant Lean back in his chair The old man thinks I am so happy I got to see The trees laughing with the wind one last time And smiles like a toothless sunset His soul swallowing and swelling On all the beauty he has ever gathered Behind the cameras of his eyes So full of life that he can no longer hide it inside of him It must go dance with the blossoms When the nurse found him The tears had not dried off his cheek His mouth frozen into a smile Like a sunbeam burning through the clouds A single dogwood flower folded in his fingers As she looked upon the hallelujah of his death She wondered What secrets did you take with you You old geezer What was so beautiful You smiled so hard your heart broke When you saw the other side Did it have dogwoods
eliot-greene
Written by
American
Dec 24, 2013
Dec 24, 2013 at 9:04 PM UTC
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