Sunday, July 25, 2010

Home Sweet Home

This is the first poem i've written in quite sometime, and it touches on my fear of total isolation when I grow older: that feeling of regrets, wrong paths taken, and feeling stuck in a place that offers no escape. My influences come from The Seatbelt's brilliant ending theme to the show Cowboy Bebop called "The Real Folk Blues", The Shins' "A Comet Appears", Radiohead's "Fake Plastic Trees" and "No Suprises", The Beatles' "Within You Without You", and Dixie Chicks' "A Home". I hope you enjoy.

The man opens the door
dragging his weary feet across
the living room floor
to a house that doesn’t feel
like a home.

The nine-to-five shift
he labors is done
his check’s in the mail
but there’s no satisfaction
no sense of achievement
that his Inner can hail
it’s nothing but a drug
another pill for him to take
to make his Outer happy
it’s there for his dead body
feeling comfortably numb.

He looks into the mirror
vague traces of regret
misery and lost causes
staring back at him
talking without speaking to him
how his future is all but set.

The deafening silence
of his house that’s not his home
slowly kills him
like searing pains of acts of violence
no wife to kiss and hold
no baby to run around and rome
are just as effective
as a gun, or a knife
once these longing feelings take hold.

He lays on his couch
the lights have gone out
nonsensical noise filling the air
of his television set
about he said/she said
and a can’t miss sale
all trying to slay
the empty silence about.

A single tear falls from his face
as he lays down his head
wishing for a way
to escape this isolating place
in a house that’s not a home
a place where there’s love instead.

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