November 21, 2012

poem 425 of a poem a day for 2012




a slightly hidden voice

did you trample the daisies on the way out
did you find the key hole in the sands of time
did you mine the stage-craft
with pratfalls and raised eyebrows
did you know how succulent the lies
would be to your eyes
before turning to desert sonography
in a maze of clever quiet whispers

I am sure of nothing these days
except for the question of why
a question, which has plagued me
since I can remember
coal sluice alleyways
cramped apartments and
being left alone
for long stretches of time
I have no idea
of what forever feels like
but I can guess
it has more to do
with hunger than starvation

I break every mirror
that catches me
just to dare bad luck
to find a way past
my inner old man and the sea
you see, inside us all
is that great what if
the purported purpose
of meaning something
beyond simple bliss
beyond what a kiss
can do to seal a fate
or unlock any door
you might remember
being left behind
scratching and clawing
wading into the fine parts
of salvation calling out
every name but yours
in the songs
of sleeping flowers
and the trillions of stars
poking through the night sky

EJR ©

1 comment:

  1. As sad as this makes me feel, it's still a wonderful piece of writing. This is the poet i know.

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