Blues

3 Comments

Tags:
  • Life

    Blues

    The rose is withering
    I'm in decay too
    Writing far too many words
    I should be saving for you

    I feel stuck
    Though I'm leaving all the time
    In love with random people
    Making misery rhyme

    Nothing really pleases
    But the thought of yesterday
    I live with bleaker prospects
    Write what I should say

    On paper I’m a god
    Master of the final word
    In the flesh a fucking coward
    Hesitated when destiny occurred

    So infinitely powerless
    When I’m out of ink
    Nothing I can do to save the world
    Myself standing on the brink

    And why should you love me back?
    I can provide no reasons
    But affectionate good intention
    Fail you through all seasons

    But I can write you dreamscapes
    That planet earth never knew
    In my frequent blues
    I’ll leave some color for you 

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    SavVySam commented on Blues

    09-13-2010

    Kah is so right...this is amazingly stand out work...!So infinitely powerless "When I’m out of ink Nothing I can do to save the world Myself standing on the brink" Great Stanza!
    Reply to Comment

    winterkou commented on Blues

    09-09-2010

    Another great write . you certaintly have a way with words, man.
    Reply to Comment

    Poetry comes nearer to vital truth than history.

    Plato (BC 427-BC 347) Greek philosopher.

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