She was nothing but a distant beggar
Dancing wildly on thin ice,
Rickety chainsaw boots scraping sidewalks
Of spare quarters lodged between pebbles
And ‘Hey Mister.’
But who was watching?
Who counted every slow swagger
That climaxed with her sweet promises
And loud exclamations,
That brought wide eyes school boys
Glaring wildly out big window doors.
Who paid attention to her exploits,
Lude and brazen as she was
With a fanny pack packed with fanny.
She held meaning in some cheapskates heart,
Some rumbling bumbler
Who intoxicated himself with used needles
And flattened cigarette butts.
He was two strings for his six string guitar
And knew better then the wide eyed schoolboys.
Tag: strings
Filled With Sin (day 587)
Pink dress I see you
I hear you loud and proud
I feel the place filling
And I like your devilish grin
Candles fighting proudly
Lights dimming slightly
Heat keeps on rising
Passion builds more passion
I’ve known you here before
I’ve seen you run your way
Now you’re pullin changes and
Now you’re a man with sin
Three piece suit, chained watch and
Fedora cocked as proud
Black and white keeps us shining
Where your smile is yelling proud
I see your tie so clearly
Contrasting with that linen
Working over crowds
Taming ladies with strings and
Hats, hats are everywhere
With golden flickering gems
Loosely hanging evening gowns
So gracefully cut for the evening
It’s New Years after all
It’s the party of the year
Can you hear me shifting easily
Feel me breathe it in
Jaw lines pushing boundaries
Cutting lines through darkness
Sinking the soul in
I’ve crawled around destructive
Tonight I’ve filled up with sin
River’s Edge (day 374)
The strings of love pull at your every crevice
Letting the edges stretch just a little bit further
Towards the towns that you’ve never visited
Listening to the songs that make you feel
In a way that you remember how you used to feel
Did you ever put down the crayons
Pick up the bullet
Let loose the canyons
And howl at the wolves?
I’ve crawled back into my tent one thousand times before
Like the thoughts I’ve held onto ever more
Tomorrow I walk into the night
Leaving behind me the silhouette of what I used to know
In a way that I remember how I used to feel
And the paint begins to dry
Sloppy spots sprayed off the pages
Canvas caked with intentional strokes
Drying up by the rivers edge
The 307 (day 307)
I’m on the 307
Pushing the tea bags
Thrice been stained
Clamored along
Greasy rocks
No shame
Jumped into an open box
Packing only
Rusty strings
Creek and lurch
Along I ride
Not much comfort
Sleeping’s uneasy
With every noise
Awake and gone
