deepundergroundpoetry.com
For when our lives are curled up
For when our lives are curled up
on sodden ground,
unable to stretch out,
get up and move on.
For when our mortality sneers at us,
hissing at us
through broken teeth…
Some are here for the long haul.
Trudge on my friends,
keep punching the television screen
until your hands bleed
and the images of disguised despair
finally leave the room.
There is more sadness
in the ironies of entertainment
than there will ever be
in any of our words.
Take your razor blades,
your tears,
your cocktails of prescribed drugs,
your melodramatic popular song,
your cliché suicide notes
and go on, get out of here.
Some of us have a fight
just around the corner.
Meanwhile, my friends
lets forget ‘them’ and get
a white knuckle grip
around the goings on…
For when our lives are curled up
on sodden floor,
unable to move,
there must be something
we can do?
on sodden ground,
unable to stretch out,
get up and move on.
For when our mortality sneers at us,
hissing at us
through broken teeth…
Some are here for the long haul.
Trudge on my friends,
keep punching the television screen
until your hands bleed
and the images of disguised despair
finally leave the room.
There is more sadness
in the ironies of entertainment
than there will ever be
in any of our words.
Take your razor blades,
your tears,
your cocktails of prescribed drugs,
your melodramatic popular song,
your cliché suicide notes
and go on, get out of here.
Some of us have a fight
just around the corner.
Meanwhile, my friends
lets forget ‘them’ and get
a white knuckle grip
around the goings on…
For when our lives are curled up
on sodden floor,
unable to move,
there must be something
we can do?
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