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Open Poetry #41
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The Jackal
Member
since 1999-08-13
Posts 426
Springfield, Massachusetts U.S.A

0 posted 2007-10-11 07:35 PM


For every vision there must be a price
A cautionary caustic tail wagging between your legs
Of something greater than you
There is a door behind you
Waiting and hoping
For you to slip into its wailing mouth


Sit me down alone
Imaginary sins I atone
but they are real to me, real to me
Both of us stuck in our past and present
It is me I swear
On the other end
Of that cold empty telephone


You throw words around and hope they stick
Just never to you
You are uncomfortable in your skin
You must make me uncomfortable in mine


I begin again to fall down the spine
Sympathize with those sick; those deprived
My last days are never meant to last
Feeble weak whisper
my apologies to those denied


I prayed long for you to know death
Wasting my bitter breath
Crushing my endless wonder
With your satellites and silent thunder
At least you are real to me
You are real to me

The Mongrel cat came home, Holding half a head proceeded to show it off to all his new found friends

© Copyright 2007 John Dixon - All Rights Reserved
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