rattled nerves and twisted dreams,
my feet lose rhythm easily on these dirty, dark, streets,
shuffling, scuffling, scuffing and scraping the rubber soles off,
leaving a hole that leaks into my socks,
where can I go to feel at home?
how do I find peace of mind?
dating games and histories of pain,
I want to throw it all out into the rain,
misdirections and pot-holed points of view,
I get tired of arguing,
'bout love and war,
will and submission,
about the amount of the bill with the electrician,
religious or non,
present or gone,
I'll rest my eyes as you present,
a retrospective on September 11th,
and let the whiskey float me away,
on an Oscar Peterson dominant 7th.
I want to throw it all out into the rain,
misdirections and pot-holed points of view,
I get tired of arguing,
'bout love and war,
will and submission,
about the amount of the bill with the electrician,
religious or non,
present or gone,
I'll rest my eyes as you present,
a retrospective on September 11th,
and let the whiskey float me away,
on an Oscar Peterson dominant 7th.
3 comments:
"histories of pain" -- I'd like to read one of those, I'm getting tired of writing my own.
That cityscape view, zoomed off to the left and focused on something quite different, dominated the wall of the apartment I shared with somebody many years ago. It was the first thing she purchased at the Ikea outlet in Elizabeth, New Jersey. About 2 years to the day later, the view became a counter-factual of its own.
Dox, that third stanza was a stunner. Great imagery; really captures that angry, urban angst.
Liked it ton, man.
Perhaps Oscar finds "home", or a Cambellian place of bliss, in the fact that his Dominant 7th is a building block of your peace.
and...Whiskey is tasty...
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