Topic: there is a songbird | |
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i guess ill make my first post waaay too long. enjoy.
--- there is a songbird on the sill i think he wants a drink (i know it makes me feel better) i think the stink doesnt bother him. a whittled woman gives me the eye. i shrug. i laugh. i dont even think to reply. not that im opposed to her delectable countenance. i love to be in the presence of beautiful things (and oh, what a shame it is that a thing is all she could think to be) i stand up and start to wander its all such a wonder. sappy sights and silly streetsigns forms of a man in a brown blazer photographing the feigned reality of the city. its funny how we all buy the lie. and now, my beloved readers(or listeners, as the current case might be)it is time for you to be weary. for the protagonist of this dead end story did shut his eyes and being to think. that was my rhyme before, and here it comes again. i think if i stop and stare a while, ill figure it all out. i think if there is one for me they'll stop and say, "hey, i read your mind and i was so very pleased to find i like what was inside." no such luck on this auburn october day. and now my eyes arise to the sights before me. i try and try to buy the lie that so recently made my mouth taste gritty. i ponder vainly on whether the marlboros i smoke or the drinks i drown in or the still, bleak, hungry monoliths that tower over my city will be the death of me. those monuments of money didnt give an inch to my wrathful stare. its like they dont care. not care? preposterous! how can one stand watch over the shivering homeless and the lost, wreckless wraiths of the middle class and the obsessed, money hungry murderers some might call "wealthy" bumping and grinding into mediocrity. no; theres no way they dont care. finally, i stand up and move on, humming a tune that makes those uncaring bricks shiver. and now, we come to the culmination of my journey through the dead thousands of miles that rot within three city blocks. and the only question left to me is whether or not i think there is a reason or rhyme to the millions here who wander alone. her eyes pass me over once again. and, this time, i crumple the sheet ive been penning and offer her a smile. |
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Great first post!!!
Welcome to JSH and our poetry section... |
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thanks. :D
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Good stuff, Unsane
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Welcome to the Family
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