Sunday, September 11, 2011

The Weary

BEFORE YOU READ THIS. Please click play on the video, as the song is meant to be heard while reading the poem. :)

This is for the weary
Cold and pulled
from every angle.
Mangled, tangled
hearts of the past
that live in the present.

Blown and blustery
How your knuckles ache
and take and take and take
the cries of your children
and muster your own.

Through the grey paved streets of the city
twinkling in the moonlight-
you dredge;
pulling your old suitcase,
cracked Italian leather.

Moving on, moving forward.
Never knowing when the next stop is.
Inertia pulling you from the inside out.

The world goes by in a water colored blur
of births,marriages, and deaths.
Trains rushing on pulsing tracks
Billboards lit against inky black skies.
The city is alive, and it begs you to notice.

Skyscrapers, payrolls, stocks.
It means nothing to you.
You cradle a cup of coffee.
The steam curls around the edge of your lips.
Time stops.

This is everything.

THIS is for the weary....