Array ( [sid] => 185505 [catid] => 1 [aid] => mick [title] => Me Walking Stress Or Stress Walking Me [time] => 2018-10-08 02:43:31 [hometext] => Co-written by Jaye and Rich [bodytext] => Theres a cigarette burn in the kitchen table;
The nights asleep, but I’m unable!
Wine climbs the coffee rings in my cup;
The days are never long enough.
The sinks full of dishes; my jeans on the chair;
And yesterday’s garbage is faint on the air.

Yet here I sit with my head in my hands, pondering, lost in translation
Its only because Im in deep thought and not because of sedation
These nights how they taunt me, like a cigarette how they do drag
But when morning finally does come its all about pretending to be merry
For between my bills and their collectors my life is not my own
Yet looking around this big old house Im reaping what I have sown

I lived so hard and I spent so fast; My moneys long gone, the die is cast.
A houseful of baubles wont keep me alive;
Warm me or feed me, or help me survive.
As winter approaches, this dwelling so bare;
No blankets, no furniture, no coat to wear.
Too late to undo what I now understand;
When you gamble with Satan he wins every hand.

To the wealthy poverty is but a fable;
while upon the impoverished it is place upon as a label
Where within fatigue some find sleep; as within worry restlessness does abound
Though throughout the infinite void of my mind no peace can be found
As from the depths of the shadows my demons keep me company
While although the nightmares are few the voice ringing in my head are many
When seeking enlightenment it is like trying to see the sun thru the clouds on a stormy day.
Since understanding is only the beginning we know the path but have forgotten the way
[comments] => 3 [counter] => 71 [topic] => 21 [informant] => softerware [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => Lifepoems ) Your Poetry Dot Com - Me Walking Stress Or Stress Walking Me


Me Walking Stress Or Stress Walking Me
Date: Monday, 8th October 2018 @ 02:43:31 AM AEST
Topic: Sad Poetry

Contributed By: softerware
Theres a cigarette burn in the kitchen table;
The nights asleep, but I’m unable!
Wine climbs the coffee rings in my cup;
The days are never long enough.
The sinks full of dishes; my jeans on the chair;
And yesterday’s garbage is faint on the air.

Yet here I sit with my head in my hands, pondering, lost in translation
Its only because Im in deep thought and not because of sedation
These nights how they taunt me, like a cigarette how they do drag
But when morning finally does come its all about pretending to be merry
For between my bills and their collectors my life is not my own
Yet looking around this big old house Im reaping what I have sown

I lived so hard and I spent so fast; My moneys long gone, the die is cast.
A houseful of baubles wont keep me alive;
Warm me or feed me, or help me survive.
As winter approaches, this dwelling so bare;
No blankets, no furniture, no coat to wear.
Too late to undo what I now understand;
When you gamble with Satan he wins every hand.

To the wealthy poverty is but a fable;
while upon the impoverished it is place upon as a label
Where within fatigue some find sleep; as within worry restlessness does abound
Though throughout the infinite void of my mind no peace can be found
As from the depths of the shadows my demons keep me company
While although the nightmares are few the voice ringing in my head are many
When seeking enlightenment it is like trying to see the sun thru the clouds on a stormy day.
Since understanding is only the beginning we know the path but have forgotten the way


This poem is Copyright © softerware


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