Miguel the poet

 
I saw a poet die tonight, I see this every day.
Another man on another film, why must it be this way?
Any man can be something, it's impossible to be nothing,
The homeless drunk sleeps in his cardboard box,
His life is now in ruins.


But he was something once and he's still something now,
But his worth to this world, floats away into the clouds;
That cannot be touched, only seen from a distance,
When you stand in a cloud, you no longer exist.


He's gone from this world but his memory lives on,
In the mind of the coroner, but not for too long.
Tomorrow he becomes, just another deceased no-one,
But this time last decade, he really was the man.


He had a family and I'm sure he had friends,
But his funeral was empty and nobody cared.
But the preacher read the service and they buried his body.
Dead men tell no tales, but once upon a time he was a somebody.


Miguel the poet was a Portorican someone;
The story of his fight will forever live on.
His poetry is written down, for future generations to study,
Miguel the homeless drunk, will forever be somebody.


Injecting drugs into his body, to open his mind,
Drinking liqour from the bottle, ignoring all time.
For time stands still, when your life's in a daze,
But the Portorican poet, no longer surfs the waves.
His crest has fallen, back into the sea,
But Miguel the drunken poet, has inspired me.


Maybe I'll inspire you, to write down what you feel,
To notice your surroundings, to open your eyes and see.
The world is unbelievable, inspirations all around,
Miguel’s inspiration will be remembered, now I've written it down.


(C)2005 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.