About Us   Publish and be read! Poetry, lyrics, short stories, scripts, words of wisdom, features, memorials, blogs (a day in my life), memoirs, history, business, and I.T.
Home   Adults   Youngsters   The Plot Thickens   Publications  

More by this Author
© writebuzz® 2004-2020
All rights reserved.

The copyright of each of the publications on this site is retained by the author of the publication. writebuzz.com has been granted permission to display the publications under the terms and conditions of membership to the original site. Publications should not be copied in either print or electronic form without prior permission. Where permission is obtained the authors must be acknowledged. Thank you.
  You are @ HomeAdults Poetry


Source: Adults

Author: jonny graham

Title: Head Down .

Head down and sad in hands ,
broken by t.v.
The political debate
the to and fro of argument
tabloid gossip
and the knife blade on the street .
The homeless musician ,
non-stereotypical ,
with a dog in a duvet , shivering .
The unwashed people and clothes ,
the Monday morning beggars ,
dirty hands .
The times we live in .
Phone abuse .
Suspension , not by rope .
The first cold snap of Winter .
Caught with no coat .
Semi-shocked and semi-frozen
like Icelandic hope .
Glimpses in windows ,
other lives ,
other unmade beds .
And a certain tightness in the head .
Some tangible strife .
And my sixteen year old son
who is staying with me for half-term holiday
takes x-box games more serious
than real life , for christ sakes .
Please give me a break ,
that's what everyone seems to be asking for these days .
And t.v. is still the focal point of the masses .
Still drives opinion .
Still offers chances .
And that painting , that masterpiece ,
will never get done .
That epic poem , floating in your head ,
will never be written .
Subscribe to the opiate of the state ,
submit , get bitten .
Overheard conversations ,
someone sad on the phone ,
he touched her ,
so innocent ,
crowded out by social stigma ,
so all alone .
The charred rafters ,
smoking in my heads history .
Yesterdays flowers tossed in the ashes
of lifes never ending mystery .
The broken lives and vacant eyes
the confusion and raw panic
that sears minds
that spend time alone
with no one else
in a shit hole called home.
Many eyes look but many eyes don't see .
The various people who are dead ,
who really don't need to be .
The weight of social expectation
drawn up and neatly listed ,
the tasks done crossed out
and new ones continually added .
That's how it happens ,
getting nowhere fast ,
just generating so much sadness .
If I could freeze these beads of frustration
I would present them to you
like little glittery jewels of insanity
and say hey you
we are not that different really
both members of sapien humanity .
Not lonely .
Not hungry .
Not much to complain about .
But something is gnawing inside ,
eating at life .
Tearing us up .
Too much trouble to ask why ,
scared to disturb
the peace and the quiet .

Published on writebuzz®: Adults > Poetry

writebuzz®... the word is out!