"foretastes" poems
how do you feel
lost and alone at the end of your dime
someplace on the road between the here and the now
out of smokes and outa luck
barefaced to the carnival of night
the day passes slowly into the vastness of the past
hungry eyes puddled with traces of regret
for all the places you've been and think you belong
for all the treasures of the past yet to be plundered
and all the sweetness to which your heart has succumb
convinced of the need to find a home
a place to breath easy
you take a few tentative steps to the road
in hopes of finding its easier than it seems
to kickstart your old bones
and write a new tale for you to sing
how do you feel down here at the end of your last dime
finger-licking good or foretastes of gloom
waiting here for the prize you know aint comin'
waiting here for the explanation you aint buyin'
thin and looking a little like a ghost
see you on the other side
May 13, 2015
May 13, 2015 at 3:07 PM UTC
Foretastes of lonesome days awake,
Her tears turned to stone.
Her eyes that once shone
Now forlorn.
The fires that once burned inside
Now have all died
The demise of love
The end of good from above.
Her heart once worn
Now even more torn
Her hands, once unscathed
But now, in blood; bathed.
Her premise, once moral
Now debauched.
Her spirit, once untainted
Now defiled.
Oct 24, 2013
Oct 24, 2013 at 10:08 AM UTC