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TWENTY YEARS ON
Eighteen years
twenty years on
no ambitions
expectation
no fear
Day after day
paying for the loss
of innocents
of youth
in high ways playing
with nickel dreams
today
on dead end roads
Tragedy troupes
A Shakespearean play
the twentieth century comedy
with actors
Jesters
Ignorant to the camera
Lens on their sitcom
reciting Soliloquies
Eighteen years
twenty years on
in a game drifting
like smoky circles
ghost visions toying
in and out of the camera's eye
Drift on now
unknown invisible mute
with your frayed script
deaf to the canned applause
Your rags and props robbed by
standard's norm
society's prime time
Nielsen's rating
I've taken my heart out too many times
To be pinned to the sweaters of acting players
It's always returned tattered and worn
to the bare soul
Can't want anymore
The feeling is useless
I'll only know loneliness and the
Day to minute void
Wax spinning sound turns myself
Into the surreal where play
Is the actual joy
even though the roses are all dead
and thorns skip in distorted reverberations
What is the real want here
To hold the flesh warm
and love
To be held and loved
Look into these eyes and see
See the passion and feel
The joy waiting to be shared
Ease the confusion set by the
Common and careless actors bent on
Hate and hurt the only lessons they
Teach and know the meaningless
mind fuck
Trapped in the songs every neighboring
Smith babbles with senseless direction
All roads lead to sleep but
I am not ready for coldness night gives
I am not ready to lay with the red faded flowers
brown and limp
I do not want to bandage the thorn pricks
and forget these hallow feelings
©2004-05 andycorrigan.com
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