Thursday, April 29, 2010

before dawn


woke up and stared out the window,
passing cars, street lights in the rain,
woke up and stared into the mirror,
passing years, more lines for the forehead again,
woke up and stared down the long hall,
distant footsteps and rattling door chains,
woke up and stared into the past,
instant solutions can't escape the pain,
woke up and stared into the future,
a soldier's fear, no mission to keep him sane,
woke up and stared into my soul,
pure light, so I put on my shades,
woke up and stared into the darkness,
angel at my bedside, she held the ace of spades.

5 comments:

Old Ollie said...

Nice - you and SQ have both hammered out some sweet poems. You must be Modern Beat Zen Monk Truckers.

Graven said...

Total modern zen beat shit, adam. I love how your last two pics have shown old men smoking and enjoying the flame, the cinders and the plume of satisfaction when the sweet puff hits their teeth. What is this guy in this pic DOING anyways? Repairing fans? Amazing.

Square Corner said...

Damn brilliant!! Serious, your rhythm is getting better and better, along with your imagery. SC is impressed big time.

Fisheye Lens said...

actually, Ollie, HP is a level 8 Zen Monk/Bard with a +2 shortbow, and SC is a level 5 Wordsmith with a charmed longstaff.

Great lines, HP. But seriously, how the fuck do you come across a photo like that? Do you go googling "bizarre-looking third-world dude repairing fans"? That fucking thing should be in National Geographic as an anthropological artifact.

Fisheye Lens said...

wait ... upon further inspection, is that a woman's brassiere hanging on the wall behind him ... what is he building in there?