Hanging on the wire:The death of a poet
Hanging on the wire:The Death of a poet.
‘I like to sleep beneath the trees, feel the universe at one with me
Look down the barrel of a gun, and feel the moon replace the sun.’
Mysterious quotes and delirious hopes, are steering this boat
Her name is Destiny, hope on board, she’s afloat
Now follow me back to basics, as I disconnect the matrix
While leaping over these pistol blasting agents
Oh…….such systematic phrases
I solely hope, that one day men will quote, the things I wrote
Or do I live my life in vain, is this lifestyle broke?
My pen strokes, as I sit under this Japanese Lacquer tree
Fighting to breathe, sigh for me, a victim of hepatitis b
Gazing upon a decaying planet, a single praying mantis, about to dine
Provides all the attestation I need, we were born to hunt…….born to die
I inscribe my thoughts upon a blank canvas, I feast upon compassion
In this day and age, poetry is out of fashion, a mere distraction
Cigarette smoke dances elegantly in a ray of light, as I play with fright
And pray tonight, ‘upon my decaying life, please stay with my wife’
I once sang so melodiously, looked upon life as a bequest
But sexual acts, have left my soul, and my life, suppressed
I hammer on the doors of hell, and stomp at the floors as well
The night I betrayed my wife, was the night I fell
I stare into the stars.. ’I challenge you, lead me to my fate’
Emotion pours from my pores, I need not recriminate
I embrace my demise, with a heart, that has only one pace left
My pen flops to my side, as my tainted world, beckons to death
‘Wrestle with me, For I have nothing left, so bequeath your best
For a poet lives for one reason. To communicate, to bless
I hope your life is touched by what I’ve left, for now I sink
Into cardiopulmonary arrest……………On God’s request’
I'd rather die for my desire,
than be left.......
Hanging on the wire