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Array ( [sid] => 159340 [catid] => 1 [aid] => mick [title] => In Hindsight, Everything Gets 5 Stars [time] => 2010-04-29 01:37:07 [hometext] => like all of my poems, this one is about dealing with being alive [bodytext] => Every expectation
has been suggested
already,
by beams of sunlight
and a twelfth story
swimming pool hidden
between floors
and near elevators.
There is too much
too far away
and nothing that is
close is nearby.
The room is blue
in my book,
and I think
that I am hiding
from the roots
that keep me sewn
into the ground.

So blue room blues
will keep on hiding
beneath the surface,
and I will keep on
smiling with my branches
glued to the surface,
and every fashion
will be beyond me,
and the unknown
American Dream will
continue to rest under
a broken tree.

And empty bottles of water
and passion will lie motionless
inside a hollow room where the
echo carries itself, and the
era of sound has already been
forgotten.

It's too late to see the golden
days, and too early to read about
them in a textbook.

It's too soon to see the tainted
silver lining; I can breathe
easier with the promise
of a drink in my hand, and the
ability to sway opinions, and
wage see-saw battles. I'm still
searching for the bottom, I'm
still aching for that feeling
of knowing I have nowhere left
to go.

Life is an exercise in breathing
and not much else, so go home happy
bleeding through the whispers
of love; when the day is over and
the night begins to rise, there is
only one thing left to say, only one
person left to kiss, and only one sky
left to breathe under.
[comments] => 0 [counter] => 219 [topic] => 73 [informant] => dirty [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 10 [ratings] => 2 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => abstract )

In Hindsight, Everything Gets 5 Stars

Contributed by dirty on Thursday, 29th April 2010 @ 01:37:07 AM in AEST
Topic: abstract

Every expectation
has been suggested
already,
by beams of sunlight
and a twelfth story
swimming pool hidden
between floors
and near elevators.
There is too much
too far away
and nothing that is
close is nearby.
The room is blue
in my book,
and I think
that I am hiding
from the roots
that keep me sewn
into the ground.

So blue room blues
will keep on hiding
beneath the surface,
and I will keep on
smiling with my branches
glued to the surface,
and every fashion
will be beyond me,
and the unknown
American Dream will
continue to rest under
a broken tree.

And empty bottles of water
and passion will lie motionless
inside a hollow room where the
echo carries itself, and the
era of sound has already been
forgotten.

It's too late to see the golden
days, and too early to read about
them in a textbook.

It's too soon to see the tainted
silver lining; I can breathe
easier with the promise
of a drink in my hand, and the
ability to sway opinions, and
wage see-saw battles. I'm still
searching for the bottom, I'm
still aching for that feeling
of knowing I have nowhere left
to go.

Life is an exercise in breathing
and not much else, so go home happy
bleeding through the whispers
of love; when the day is over and
the night begins to rise, there is
only one thing left to say, only one
person left to kiss, and only one sky
left to breathe under.

Copyright © dirty ... [ 2010-04-29 01:37:07]
(Date/Time posted on site)

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