Wednesday, July 22, 2009

At a Bar, And Afterwards

A room of recognizables, but strangers nonetheless
I sense the ghost receding, pressure easing in my chest
A world of dancing dangers lurking down around my knees
Is somehow strangely soothing even when I hold the keys

A synapse fires early, and the words escaping out
Conspire to overthrow me, get the General to rout
Decorum is the enemy, I hide behind my eyes
And all their polite questioning is only to disguise

The mottled, blind, self-interest that makes me so forlorn
An answer out of category will win the people’s scorn
And when did the brains trust decide that this was all okay?
For cultural myopia to rule the children’s play?

Alone, at home, I feel that I’m that cat inside the box
Equally alive and dead, so long as no-one looks
And why can’t I express the things that mean the most to me?
Her words take me to other realms I feel but cannot see

And yet my words fall silent, dead before they’ve left the tongue
Perhaps the words have dried away, used up when I was young
Or maybe I can find the words in someone else’s song?
And use those ‘til my own return, I hope it won’t be long.

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