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Open Poetry #47
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When Sleep Becomes A Hobby Too Expensive To Pursue (redux)
| Open Poetry #47 |
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When Sleep Becomes A Hobby Too Expensive To Pursue (redux) |
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icebox Member Elite
since 2003-05-03
Posts 4383in the shadows 
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I am drinking wine, do you want a sip? No, it's not polite behavior just idle courtesy; also, I am dying, do you want a sip? Funny isn't it, what I am willing to share with friends or strangers who stop in on a dare? My building days are over, my castle walls are growing moss, the loss in edges softening, still, it's warm and dry inside; c'mon, let's take a ride, we aren't really going anywhere, at least it won't be somewhere you should avoid forever, besides, it's just your mind that takes the trip. My fighting days are over, blood just dried up memories, a ditty bag of dust and faded scars. Was it wealth or justice for which I lived? None are left alive who were there to see; who could remember me, would you remember me? Do you see, that's what I'm talking about, not just playing at being free, but earning what it is to be? So, my killing days are over, you see I lost the taste for it, a shame in childlike ways, arrangements always paid for days, in stark simplicity there was a purity, a quiet range of clarity; it was a business for the shy, I never needed vision, nor a sense of purpose; the contract was the only why. Now, my running days are over, I'm not hiding anymore, the dead are in no hurry, they're not battering my door trying to break in, though some nights I hear the woven threads, their laughter in the wind; really, my shadow days are over, I'm not afraid to wear the cloak but daylight doesn't frighten me and though I won't get outspoken on you and leave you wondering if you get out alive, I'm just not hiding anymore. Here, come sip a little wine, come share a stare into my fire, we can sit and wait for pale of dawn but it's only fair to warn you I'm too old and far too cranky to be a liar in the stories I could tell; oh, you would think I am a monster, you might think me born from Hell, so, if you don't want to hear the truth then don't ask about the past; the wine is free come have a sip, we'll laugh about the politicians waving hyped up media fears, about the silliness of instant fame and the last of Winter's tears blowing hard and shrill of threat circling my walls panting out with icy breath, just some other aging dogs of war waiting for the pickup ride, quickly tiring of the kill. ©2007, 2011 by icebox |
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| © Copyright 2011 icebox - All Rights Reserved | |||
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passing shadows Member Empyrean
since 1999-08-26
Posts 45577displaced |
well I don't mind if I do  But I'll need more than a sipamazing piece of writing, as usual |
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Margherita Member Seraphic
since 2003-02-08
Posts 22236Eternity |
A night talk with a Poet and storyteller like you, between a sip or two, would make the stars want to listen, because it's those who have lived with the shadows and those who have known the miseries at the edge of the human abyss, it's those who really know the worth of life. The brightest light is at the end of dark tunnels. Wonderful work, dear Charly. Love, Margherita |
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JerryPat2 Member Laureate
since 2011-02-06
Posts 16975South Louisiana |
Sipping? Oh hell no, I want to guzzle. Our conversation demands guzzle. Won't take anything less. And you are correct, "ole and cranky" has a love affair with truth. I became a pariah long before my time for being a "truth" telling kinda guy. We have fought different wars, my friend, but the result seems to be the same. Nice work. ~ Diplomacy is the art of saying 'Nice doggie' until you can find a rock ~ |
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