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rambling rows

Contributed by poeticjestix on Saturday, 27th August 2011 @ 02:34:19 PM in AEST
Topic: Lifepoems

Same bricks, different people
All the same, yet different. Equal
Knowing how it used to be
Makes me judge so easily
I think of places, people, faces.
I bend down to tie my laces.
Looking up, I see the bull.
The ones I know not there, yet full.
Laughing people, not my kind
I walk on by and can’t unwind.
The sun soon down but it’s not dark,
Around the corner to the park
Where tramps converse in their own way
Shouting, laughing, pale and grey.
I stand observing at the gates
Wary, as the light abates.
I hear a sound I can’t ignore
Sirens, police cars off to war.
Silence follows, I track back
Knowing that something I lack.
Onward up to the old town
Crooked slates and bricks of brown.
Rushing!- I slow, for I’m not late
through a viaduct, so great,
many arches, many bricks.
A mighty structure, tall and thick.
I look on it with fear and awe,
a train goes by to the south shore.
It’s windows bright in evening pale,
few passengers at night on rail.
I walk on through, my footsteps lost
as a stream of cars are bossed
By traffic lights that don’t make sense.
At quiet times, no consequence.
Yet red is shone, a line awaits
for seconds, minutes, changing late.
And then the line extends at speed
As if all joined by bungee lead.
I pass the place of my first kiss.
It is still there, though I’m not missed.
A tiled floor just as before,
reminding me of a closed door.
But freedom means that broken dreams
Are yours to keep,
they keep you deep.
I fail to stop and take a turn
left towards the place I learned.
At my old school , I was a fool,
always following the rules-
Respecting elders ,fearing power.
So much grass there, but no flowers.
I read a sign outside the gate.
KEEP OUT. It's in a right state.
Demolition will be done.
the local youth would find that fun.
I pass this place not knowing if
I’m sad or not, you get my drift?
Many streets passed like before.
Night time arrives, the siren war
returns at distance, coming near.
I really could murder a beer.
At last I find the hidden place.
The place I barely show my face.
I knock and wait, my bag in hand.
I know that she will understand.
Embarrassed as I tell my mum
It’s over, relationship done.
She looks concerned, opens the door
Just like those many years before
it's really low and really cheap
but my pockets aren' that deep
but before I rest my head
I pay by saying what was said
and listening to good advice
silence right now would be quite nice.
Tonight will be a time to think
though I would sooner have drink.

Same bricks, different people?
All the same, yet different. Equal?

Copyright Â© poeticjestix ... [ 2011-08-27 14:34:19]
(Date/Time posted on site)

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