My115thDream

Dave's Mental Meanderings
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2003-06-18 05:53:50 (UTC)

Poem - "Playing in the Ghetto"

Be careful boy, and don’t act too fast,
If you take that step, it may well be your last,
For although you can sit in the sun till you burn,
Once you dive in you can never return.
The dilation of days will dissect your delusions,
Ambiguity is replaced by confusion,
Six of this and a half dozen of that,
Pick the nail of your choice but it won’t fix your flat.
Beware of the storm that will come if you wish it,
When the furnace falls it brings the darkness down with it,
What’s done with the hammer can not be reversed
Without expecting, receiving, and cursing the worst.
“Enough is enough,” you might hear yourself say
With a sigh in the sun of a sweltering day,
It’s too late for alarm, just let yourself learn
Lest your battle-torn body be buried and burned.
You will find yourself now thinking twice on this matter,
Weighing your soul against a big silver platter,
For this type of transition you must not be prepared,
You must choose to be misinformed or be scared.
For if you could peek down the tunnel of time,
Your prophesy wouldn’t be worth one dime,
For to see yourself dressed in tattered old clothes
Is to openly embrace what your better half loathes.
I speak not of some angel of mercy and grace
Sent down to usher you through this grim place,
Alas but a farce is this foolish mistake,
To think beauty was forged simply for your sake.
I speak of the all-too-real voice in your head
Whose whisper remains when you’re left out for dead,
The voice of salvation and sometimes insanity,
The voice of pure life and unspoiled humanity.
You must listen as the sunset of youth slowly passes
To the voice in your head and not that of the masses.


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