"washaway" poems
It is time for a cleansing
washaway this job
this car, wife and children
forsake these friend
forget the monotony of money
forget the constraints of time
forget forget forget
and baptise yourself in the "sins" of the counterculture
Jul 26, 2010
Jul 26, 2010 at 1:22 PM UTC
Lessons that’d keep coming throw me against rocks and stars
Vacuum the space of stories I cherished
the bibliography of another misunderstood wanderer
Fresh is today, yet dusty is mind’s wraparound
Begging the soul to hold on to the noose
to paint the portrait with wounds’ blood
Dissonance thrives
Yet roots are growing
Flurried, awaiting the washaway
from someone lovingly reaching out, understanding, acknowledging
giving nothing more but a smile of compassion
The dance awaits
for dissolution of sown death
No future will come for the waiting ones
I’ll sculpt all within and without that I can
I’ll keep on refusing to stop at the mask
I’ll strengthen what needs to become stronger
and tear down all which was never meant to be
In the end there’s only one direction
Mar 3, 2017
Mar 3, 2017 at 5:50 AM UTC