Tuesday, July 10, 2007

Writer's Crib"

The radiator clangs in the middle of the night
The refrigerator hums along
I'm writing words in lucid sleep
Listening to the combos song
Sweet moonlight enters in through the window
A cat meows loudly on the rooftop
At least there are no flies around today
Who try to eavesdrop
Papers on the table from a scribbling whim
Coffee stained a bit with the odor of tobacco
The radio plays stale music
In the middle of this metropolis burough
Sebastian Leone was a good man
Long gone from his place in power
He only appears as a name in memory
No less than a wallflower
A bird in a cage causes a ruckus
It is forgotten most of the day
Except for my voice through the walls
I have nothing else to say
I am the invisible friend of the bird
Who listens for my voice
To break the silence of monotony
There is no other choice
Everything is in a cage of sorts
Even the ideas on tables
Ideas grow stale-principles become frail
Inspiration to go on with the fables
Clattering fists pounding upon my mind
The crowds cannot resist temptation
It is kind of like masturbating buzzards at the door
Who demand that I spend the duration
Invoking spirits to enter my brain
To jump on and then off of the moving train
I want to become a bramblebush
That wanders the praries freely

© 2006 Moses Lestz - All Rights Reserved

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