Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Tom Waiting Jun 2020
decided why waiting, my name, my curse, my retrocognition,
last week, was sore-spent, from abusing discontinuation, retribution,
lovers who took more, too much, left contentedly, not looking back
over their shoulder, at the wasted wake left behind, nothing to them

just was their “been here, now, just a hereafter” remainder reminder

can’t believe I’m writing, in these blues lyrics electrified,
my ribs, plucked like guitar strings for “pic”ing demand wailing,
my own hereafter starts now, past days eradicated, freshened up,
these aren’t the days of reminiscing, these are the days of  no más!

of my hereafter, now I understand, did not know how, clarity arrived

but now will love only in equality, no worshiping, no portraits
to be admired  hanging on hallway walls, got rollers and pan,
repainting walls crazy whites, starting again, coming out today,
the hiding separated, put in trash bags on the street, for takeaway

in crazy notions, commencing my hereafter, is inviting you,
join me, improve my cadence, my rhymes, finish my sentences,
with periods of laughter, commas of words of perfect additions,
waiting no more, from here after and ever more so, my name

hereafter, is now my retrofitted futures, no longer waiting...
Tom Waiting Jun 2020
uptown train

a rare sighting, a shiny dime,,
in a city where clothesworn-grime,
an unshed waning gray, a skin coloring,
stony faces always chewing, enduring

in tunnels neath rivers of streets,
there is no moon, so little hope,
nightly somebody’s thinking,
somebody’s baby,
I’ll be, tonight,
someday, maybe

who will see them
as they are,
willI I, will I,
before they’ve gone too far,
roadies, touring to nowhere, disciples,
nose-led by a vision,
daring, but archetypal

there are no gardens,
but plenty secrets,
all planted,
that will never planet bloom,
seeds raised to die,
in watered sorrows drown,
embryos stillborn,
passed to daughters down

the trains go uptown
to shiny places,
to uptown people,
washed, shiny faces,
bedecked with futures,
hope, their jewel,
but not for them,
the downtime people

five pm, afternoon dying
into night bleeding,
the subway noises,
the perfumed stink, all,
goes unnoticed by senses dulled, unfulfilled,
day goes down,
another, and another,

colored pained refrain, why do we bother?
inspired by:

Outside another yellow moon
Has punched a hole in the nighttime, yes
I climb through the window and down the street
I'm shining like a new dime
The downtown trains are full
With all those Brooklyn girls
They try so hard to break out of their little worlds
Well, you wave your hand and they scatter like crows
They have nothing that will ever capture your heart
They're just thorns without the rose
Be careful of them in the dark
Oh if I was the one
You chose to be your only one
Oh baby can't you hear me now, can't you hear me now?
Will I see you tonight
On a downtown train?
Every night it's just the same
You leave me lonely, now
I know your window and I know it's late
I know your stairs and your doorway
I walk down your street and past your gate
I stand by the light at the four-way
You watch them as the fall
Oh baby, they all have heart attacks
They stay at the carnival
But they'll never win you back
Will I see you tonight
On a downtown train?
Every night it's just the same
Oh, baby
Will I see you tonight
On a downtown train?
All of my dreams just fall like rain
Oh, baby, on a downtown train
Will I see you tonight
On a downtown train?
Every night, every night it's just the same
Oh, baby
Will I see you tonight
On a downtown train?
All of my dreams just fall like rain
Well, on a downtown train
Well, on a downtown train
Well, on a downtown train
Well, on a downtown train
On a downtown train
Source: LyricFind
Songwriters: Tom Waits
Tom Waiting Jun 2020
the day blinks,
the sunset stinks,
the rhyming is de-fining,
is this how low you’ll go?
to get their blood hot, earn
their likes and hearts, a lot?

your personal side slides,
means you don’t need to
repent, nyet, been sentenced-sent
to the zone of indeterminacy

the day blinks, somewhere
tween day dying time and
maybe nighttime resurrection


unless you been there,
you missed it when,
the day blinks, then all them
souls, sinners and saints,

(oh yeah, the **** poets too!)

sneaky snuck out, went forced marching


into the zone of indeterminacy

— The End —