Okay…
so I can’t think
of a single damn thing to say
so I’ll just lay one word
after the other and see what happens…
I’ll see if I can derive the
proper images from my mind…
maybe the ones I see in
the horror of my dreams
That tend to leave me
wasted and wandering through day,
wondering if I slept
at all, or am I living
lives on other planes?
can I rise? can I rise anyway?
to this page, and
spit out Red all over it...
all over this, rip my surreal
heart out, need for art…
spit it out, and watch it
spread from the page to
my broken jeans
Then drip drop to the floor,
taking on a life of it’s own.
I wanna be that Red…
I wanna enter into it’s shadow
then tip toe without it knowing, merge into Red…
post success, I will lean
like a wanna-be James Dean
against the don’t-walk
sign on the corner, looking like
a poster boy
for burnt out hustlers
waiting for a trick
to sweep him away
from every single broken
dream that all souls in this broken
town, have come to learn to lie and
call the dream their friend.
but the real trick is, all the while
I will be filled with magic Red
that no one can see…not even me,
and even as I seem to be
fading…inside I am blooming…
blooming Red
A retro/modern rainstorm of Red,
living in the eye of the hurricane,
I am Red...
and not for a second,
questioning which way the wind
will blow…
even though
at any time
my insides
can be ripped from me…
I am Red,
And walking down an alien
shore…waves kissing my strides
In a dance that is one-part
Cha-Cha another part
wow…
I hardly can see,
as I begin to leak and
paint the seas of other
planets with my single
soul which found it’s
home in Red.
Then I sit where I started,
and believe I fly across
a checkered floor
with Ginger Rogers…and flutters of
the memory of Red in my heart and toes…
eyes closed
sitting still
smiling
pretending
to be a poet…
but who the hell
cares, because there is one thing
I know is real...
now and till whenever
never comes
I will always
be brothers
with Red.
No comments:
Post a Comment