deepundergroundpoetry.com
HOME
A building
Stands tall
In a meca
Of industrial chaos.
It has four walls
Made from cemeant
Given birth
By assorted
Architects and bulders
Stained with the coffee
From the 30 min tea break
That occures every 10 mins.
Some call it a "eye sore"
A landlord calls it "income"
Some like myself call it "home".
Think what these walls have seen?
The storys they could tell?
From my greatest truimph
To my lowest ebb,
To the birth of my son
To day of my death.
And now i sit in my armchair
With entopy snapping at my feet,
This home was a haven
A place to rest my head
Now this home becomes a tomb
Now that i am dead.
Stands tall
In a meca
Of industrial chaos.
It has four walls
Made from cemeant
Given birth
By assorted
Architects and bulders
Stained with the coffee
From the 30 min tea break
That occures every 10 mins.
Some call it a "eye sore"
A landlord calls it "income"
Some like myself call it "home".
Think what these walls have seen?
The storys they could tell?
From my greatest truimph
To my lowest ebb,
To the birth of my son
To day of my death.
And now i sit in my armchair
With entopy snapping at my feet,
This home was a haven
A place to rest my head
Now this home becomes a tomb
Now that i am dead.
Published 31st May 2015
| Edited 1st Jun 2015
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
likes 1
reading list entries 0
comments 2
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The author encourages honest critique.
2nd Jun 2015 6:40pm
America is the pink house and architect wasteland. Home is an important concept for the children. The comforts, that should be found there, will not surpass any. There are memories that cover every step. “With entopy snapping at my feet” I love that line but not sure if entopy was a typo or dialect. Nice write.
3rd Jun 2015 11:08pm
Many thanks, inpiration hit me when on my way to work, i saw a neighbor return home from work. Her husband let her in, the door was half open, inside you could see pictures, familly photos, it struck me that the house they live in was a box, a universe of there own creation. I guess when you go in someones house you step inside there world...or box.
Glad you liked it and thanks for reading.
Marcus
Glad you liked it and thanks for reading.
Marcus
