Never Too Late!

Never Too Late!
any resemblance to anyone real or imaginary is mere bad luck
we are all lying in the gutter, but some of us are trying to get up


Verses for Isabella

[... who reminded me about rhyming words, again. If you're reading this, bella, there's an email address in the sidebar, so you can ask for more...]

What do you see when you stare in the headlights? Your
Nerves are exploding with white blasts of starlight.
Voices are screaming and pleading to vacate the
Place where you’re standing to placate the hatred, which
Drives you from gold tinted skies in the place where you
Bathed in her warmth in a room in the basement, a
World that is gone into shadow and wasted, the
Past is a lie and the future is fated to
Tear deeper cuts in your flesh, unabated.
This mad final stand in the howl of the engines
You’re screaming your hatred, it feels like it’s wasted
The sound of the parties, the women you’ve tasted
The freedom you fought for is given to pasty-faced
Leeches who feed on the victories you’ve tasted
People you’ve hated return from the shadows
To haunt your depictions of far-away places...

[intended for performance by Mike H, who has the delivery]


tequilita said...

i'm glad you've enabled comments mike...i like your poem.

belle said...

hey thats cool, this possession runs from possession into the arms of holy angels and spiralling to the left into the powered charms of a columbus retenue that have wandered through and through... and so in this creation you may find your magic and dance to the tune of a divine catastrophe, atleast grace can not be torn from the artist bag of tricks, his fairy dusted ride into the federation brings at least one smile to a wanderer cross eyed and still clasping at the sun with burned hands, this be one way never to let go....