Array ( [sid] => 131247 [catid] => 1 [aid] => mick [title] => Stoned Belonging [time] => 2007-02-01 00:50:52 [hometext] => I think my mind is beginning to melt ^_^ love always, abraham [bodytext] => I have five minutes before
I need to go to bed and the world
Is a mad place


A war vet spits in his own face
To forget
What he sees in the reflection
Of the black marble memorial
That spans the length of his sorrow
And writes the history of his hands

It is now five fifty eight pm on the
Following day and I am
Exhausted
Babbling
Stoned
About a war I never knew

Cutting corners
Hiding from the
Truth

There is new war
New deaths
New wives
Weeping or
Cheating or
Watching TV

There are wars better left unsaid
Unspoken of
Kicked down and buried
Wars that are not
In the eyes
Or the heart
Or the hand

They are sad forgettable wars
And the dead
They are forgotten
Misplaced
Left to high school text books
And cold stone memorials

Left to movies
Novels
And magazines

Everyday we see more dead
Everyday we raise our blinds

The world is a mess.
It is confusing and maddening
Almost sick

So I dream

I dream
I am a crumbling mountain
Or
A King fisher
Mute by a cage
Redeemed
Freed
Finally knowing
The feel of wind on my wings
Finally understanding
The warm sensation
Of sunlight
As the rain runs down
In Great fountains
Crystal and sheer
Or white like the
Voice of god

It is a new day, and I am alive

I breathe
I splatter the page
Of my shirt
With lies
I breathe
My heart rises
And falls with the
Shadows of sky

Today is the last day.
[comments] => 4 [counter] => 216 [topic] => 43 [informant] => iodinelove [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 12 [ratings] => 3 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => oops ) Your Poetry Dot Com - Stoned Belonging


Stoned Belonging
Date: Thursday, 1st February 2007 @ 12:50:52 AM AEST
Topic: Sad Poetry

Contributed By: iodinelove
I have five minutes before
I need to go to bed and the world
Is a mad place


A war vet spits in his own face
To forget
What he sees in the reflection
Of the black marble memorial
That spans the length of his sorrow
And writes the history of his hands

It is now five fifty eight pm on the
Following day and I am
Exhausted
Babbling
Stoned
About a war I never knew

Cutting corners
Hiding from the
Truth

There is new war
New deaths
New wives
Weeping or
Cheating or
Watching TV

There are wars better left unsaid
Unspoken of
Kicked down and buried
Wars that are not
In the eyes
Or the heart
Or the hand

They are sad forgettable wars
And the dead
They are forgotten
Misplaced
Left to high school text books
And cold stone memorials

Left to movies
Novels
And magazines

Everyday we see more dead
Everyday we raise our blinds

The world is a mess.
It is confusing and maddening
Almost sick

So I dream

I dream
I am a crumbling mountain
Or
A King fisher
Mute by a cage
Redeemed
Freed
Finally knowing
The feel of wind on my wings
Finally understanding
The warm sensation
Of sunlight
As the rain runs down
In Great fountains
Crystal and sheer
Or white like the
Voice of god

It is a new day, and I am alive

I breathe
I splatter the page
Of my shirt
With lies
I breathe
My heart rises
And falls with the
Shadows of sky

Today is the last day.


This poem is Copyright © iodinelove


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