deepundergroundpoetry.com
The Din
Whatever it might be;
the blacks outside
with their music,
their cars
and their constant
shouting.
The elephants overhead,
the washing up that waits
to be done by someone else.
The lack of money
at the end of the month
so you are forced to survive
sober when you need
to be drunk.
The repetition of the job,
the repetition of the job,
the repetition of life.
The list feels endless,
especially after another
argument.
Whatever it might be,
stop.
Think of beautiful women,
fine wines
and the music of Chopin.
The din is hard
and constant,
but no matter how close
it gets,
it will never be
everything.
the blacks outside
with their music,
their cars
and their constant
shouting.
The elephants overhead,
the washing up that waits
to be done by someone else.
The lack of money
at the end of the month
so you are forced to survive
sober when you need
to be drunk.
The repetition of the job,
the repetition of the job,
the repetition of life.
The list feels endless,
especially after another
argument.
Whatever it might be,
stop.
Think of beautiful women,
fine wines
and the music of Chopin.
The din is hard
and constant,
but no matter how close
it gets,
it will never be
everything.
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