dead tired from work,
fell asleep in my chair.
woke up with a start;
dreaming of sex, and death,
and the ten thousand things
i worry about, but cant change.
get up,
sweep the floor,
pour a cup of coffee,
stare out the window...
night falling over the trees
like an anvil.
who am i?
a scarecrow with
a cardboard heart,
an adjustable wrench,
broken, and discarded.
a candle melted down,
a doorbell that
doesnt work anymore!
an aching back...
a set of lips in a jar.
a sign thrown in the street
when the goon squad came...
saying: 'Stop The Wars! '
an iron barred teepee
built over silent ground,
bones scattered and buried
by the layers of time.
enough!
a shot of brandy,
curl up with a book...
spirit and flesh,
and whispering ghosts!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A fantastic poem, really like it.