with a "to-get" list crumpled
in my trouser pocket, Salem town
in front of me, beckoning,
I step outside
for the first time in a long time.
the sun comes around
for a firm look, acknowledges.
I gather up the will to move
one toe
through the gravel that leads
to my automatic escape.
brown, pale or blending in,
the battle-cries of the ignition,
demons dance on eight cylinders,
I am moving on.
Please leave a message after the beep...
Comments
1 - 7 of 7
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Move on and mingle over here for a change.
Remember...if not, your movies are in grave danger. lol.
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aaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhh.... be kind to my movies!!!!
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GO FORTH AND MINGLE! Nice mouthful here
i enjoyed.x
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Moving on is harder than we'd like. I always look back to a few years ago each time I'm in this place. For some reason it takes me two years to totally move on. You have written a very raw and explanatory poem. Not sure what I'm talking about but maybe you do.
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heh, actually this one is about me finally leaving my basement and going out to town. I could see how the last line seems to tie in to my personal life, but really the poem is simply about me finding the will and the reason to leave the safety and comfort of my home and go mingle with the locals.
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Oops my bad
remember when you post on here every poem can be interpreted different to the poet's original intention\thoughts. I have found some poets will never agree or disagree to what it really means to them. I had one poem where every single reader gave a different view\interpretation on it. I apologize for assuming the worse.. Have a great day!
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long live ambiguity! haha, hey it's all good. Sometimes I don't even know what the hell my own poems mean, usually because they were written while intoxicated, and then I wake up the next day and try to decipher the bloody mess.
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