Time And Space (Written 4-3-14)

Discussion in 'Poetry' started by Echo Catharsis, Aug 30, 2014.

  1. Echo Catharsis

    Echo Catharsis Members

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    Floating above the earth
    It seems I haven't touched down in years
    Not on any ground I would call sacred
    Pounding on concrete that wore away my soul
    I left sanity and simplicity behind
    Days on end spent plugged into some wire
    Or tethered to an invisible beam
    Bits and bytes here and there
    Metallic sheen on shattered mirrors of broken dreams
    The very life and love energy sucked out of the ones I care for
    Such deep wounds left by the leeches of time
    I searched far and wide for a broader path
    Only to watch the sun pass over the barren blocks of industry
    Illuminating the emptiness behind tinted glass
    I sought love round every corner of the world
    Met with cold hearts and blind eyes
    Half-open arms and clenched fists
    And the one who held the tightest grip
    Choked off every ounce of my will
    Pulled the color and the brightness of my world away
    Like some crumpled and stained sheet on a bed
    Long waves of hair tumbled to the floor
    Skirts torn and paisley patterns faded and worn
    Drab blocks of solid color
    Collars with buttons, slacks, jeans and tight-laced shoes
    Sustenance stolen, best plans laid to waste
    Cardboard and plastic, the convenience of satisfaction
    The art lost in cuisine when there's only a single mouth to feed
    Backed into corners like some caged animal
    Running a meager mile to survive another moment
    Dreaming of the ease of golden streets
    Longing for the buzz of star-crossed spirits
    Turning about to match your steps as they pass through your path
    The shops call out from strings of jingling bells set upon the doors
    The true craft of the human hand ever beckoning
    Standing still for a frame of time
    Knocked every which way off my feet by sights, sounds and smells
    If this is home, why can't I afford to live here?
    When does the starving artist get what's due?
    When can one close the rule book of lessons learned?
    Then open the journal of living experiences
    Will all these fragile wishes slip through my hands?
    Is it too late to be noticed by another lost soul missing half their heart?
    Do I wait to open the way for a child's entry?
    Or, must I close off the channels of life and bar them from collecting dust?
    Tears well up in my eyes so deeply
    That I stumble along the returning path
    Back to the gaping hole in the old lady's wall
    Ever prodded and pierced by her relentless eyes
    Coddled in comfort by the long-acquainted elders
    Before being dragged by the elbow somewhere they prefer
    To bathe the insolent child in heavy, heated spotlights
    That very well may catch the faint glow within
    Until the higher voice is silenced by the low, scripted drivel
    A stunned body rigid in a chair
    Watching as they bustle around her
    Completing in record time on the stopwatch of society
    The mundane daily appointed tasks
    She's forgotten how to perform the exact right way
    So, they refuse to allow her to remember
    Crawling under the blankets for another uneasy night of sleep
    Only to find in the morning the bed half off its rails
    The fittings snapped away from the mattress they're supposed to stretch across
    Companions of child-like imagination lay strewn about
    Face-down on the low floor
    All hope sinks below and behind the forward-marching footsteps
    Of a disconnected life and spirit living through another pointless day
    As time ticks away on the universal clock of life


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