Sew the Seams of a Poet's Dreams
The hours and minutes
Of our minuscule existence
Are like a road map unto death
Estimated time of arrival
No one exactly knows, do you?
Time is not a race
Though material gain is
We maintain the same pace
Until the spiritual sprain hits
But we're heading to the same place
And there's only one direction you can go, do you.
As we wind on down the path
From itch to scratch to scab
With pits of ashes in our past
And smokestacks on the horizon just asking for a match
Appeased desire is the only means to ceasefire.
Freights carrying fate barreling fast
Afraid of the conductor who asks, are you up to task?
But hides behind nature's mask
Instructing you to stay on track
Don't let your train of thought be derailed
By the microscopic penny of a catastrophic detail.
Whatever is in store for your soul, don't sell out
There won't be a resale available at your nearest retail
You cannot buy time
Only bide time, by and by
Until it's bye-bye
Kafka once compared the self to an insect
I suspect he's correct
Because lately I've been feeling an awful lot
Like I'm constantly caught
In a cobweb of cause-and-effect
But this web has no e-mail
And the weaving black widow
Is an actual grieving white female
Merrily, wearily, barely, hold on tight
This locomotive life is about to crash.
The hours and minutes
That pass us by like honey-drips and shutter-clicks
Can make six-tenths of existence
Feel like it flashed us by in an instant
They sew the seams of our broken dreams
To the tapestry of reality
Or so it seems
And weld together the wrought-iron bonds
[...] Read more
poem by Joe Cabrera
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
