Dear God,
I don't really know how to tell you this, but our affair is over. I think I realized it when I finally changed my underwear under the bus and I saw you carve your initials into a Catholic Priest. I'm sure you're high enough to understand that I may pee my pants. I'm returning your love letters to me to you, but I'll keep your left ear as a memory. You should also know that I get sick when I think of your feet and you ruined my attempts at another world war.
What of it now I’ve been wondering when you’d be coming round again.
These parts have lost their luster, rusting away in the dark.
The breeze rustles through here from time to time,
Dragging behind it some tattered soul who stops and waits a while.
But they don’t stay very long , nobody does anymore.
We’re all standing in motion, and some of us get swept away by the tide.
It’s hard to imagine these corners bounced with the vibrancy of expression.
Now they’re the morbid crypts of a once memorable time.
The walls used to sing with the songs of our declarations
And were painted with the feelings we used to share.
Silent is all I hear and the paint has all but faded away.
It’s a ghost town here, we’re all living in a ghost town.
We’re all ghost living in a place without life, without love.
Because without poetry there is no art
And without art there is no soul.
A town without people
Ghosts without souls.
I’ve been wondering when you’d be coming round again,
Thinking if the times were ever gonna change.
Hoping in some innocent manner that they will,
Only to have your absence let me down again.
I’ve been thinking as the sands form another vortex of consuming sentiment,
That spiral and spin to no avail on account of, well nothing.
There isn’t much to me that could give it a run for anything.
And being the last one here I doubt it’s gonna find anybody else.
In some twisted sense it pleads I give it something.
Squeeze at the chords of inspiration and summon my muse
To press out the moist droplets of life you and I used to call
Our beautiful creations.
I can’t answer its prayers. I’m not a god who gives
To the valley of forgotten ecstasies and accepted compunctions.
But we’re all the rulers to the lands of our own imprisonment.
We hear only the clanging of our self-imposed shackles,
And taste the dryness of our own making with the bitterness of fate.
I love looking out hoping by the light of the sun or moon
Some distant shadow will make its way to this disregarded town.
And when I think it somebody, it turns out just to be the shadows of dust and ash
Whipping and curling in the fading light of my eyes.
The church bell tower that used to ring for the pious,
Has long since cracked when the rope couldn’t hold her high anymore.
The flower beds that used to brighten this scene,
Have all withered in their flower beds.
The tombs we used to visit with the flowers we used to grow,
You’d be lucky to find one above the shifting sands.
The animals that used to jump, run and fly,
Well they’ve mosied on out of this town when they could.
I’m telling you friend things have died while you’ve been gone.
And I’ve been hoping, if you’d be willing, to come back to this lonely town.
If you do decide to, I’ll be standing by the rotted oak
Sitting and waiting underneath this once lively tree
Wondering when you’ll be coming round again.
I really like it. Read it a few times and I took in more everything time. What I see in it is an old love. An old love that meant the world to you and now that it's gone, you see no happiness. There's something else too... hope.?
I really enjoy all your writing. I look up to it.
__________________
"To the well organized mind, death is but the next great adventure." "It’s the unknown we fear when we look upon death and darkness, nothing more."
Needless to say, the poem is multifaceted. I was thinking of, indeed, a very close friend whom no longer stands by my side today. However my inspiration found itself in the many friends I have made, but through one circumstance or another also are not there now. But what of this is surprising? Even the mountains change and the oceans claim and lose land throughout the years. Humans are no greater then they. But we demand permanence. We decree stillness and perfection. We outlaw change and reign in immortality. I thought as this once, and that things would last forever. Now I am a prophet of impermanence in the world of continuity.
KMC Community Forums
Apr 12th, 2009 06:58 AM
Kelsey I love you always and forever! x
And I read it. Rather good. I'll see if I can transfer more poems...
