As Open an Apology as I can Offer
Am I a red-tailed devil roaming? Am I shiftless angel moaning?
Watched pots never boiling,
Answers ain’t materializing in wisps on expecting
shoulders. But now stopped at 31st Street in the morning,
blue light windows of a city bus revealing
what to friends I should be showing.
God knows I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry.
We find words floundering, breathless, no soul.
Words are a dramatic beat, a planned lull
in a sarcastic play. I am the lead,
always tripping center stage, beginning
my closing plea.
If we spirits have offended
Think but this and all is suspended
from your beliefs, seemingly doubting
my sincerity, my constant battling
of my colossal hubris. I beg forgiveness.
The antacids are gone.
Watched pots never boiling,
Answers ain’t materializing in wisps on expecting
shoulders. But now stopped at 31st Street in the morning,
blue light windows of a city bus revealing
what to friends I should be showing.
God knows I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry.
We find words floundering, breathless, no soul.
Words are a dramatic beat, a planned lull
in a sarcastic play. I am the lead,
always tripping center stage, beginning
my closing plea.
If we spirits have offended
Think but this and all is suspended
from your beliefs, seemingly doubting
my sincerity, my constant battling
of my colossal hubris. I beg forgiveness.
The antacids are gone.
posted by shakes at 8:53 AM
1 Comments:
Yes, this poem does sound like you are in quite a bit of trouble. My favorite lines: "But now stopped at 31st Street in the morning, blue light windows of a city bus revealing what to friends I should be showing."
all is mended
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