Underground_Network
February 6th, 2010, 11:28 AM
Tonight my mind is bereft
Of invasive thoughts.
I see only the aura of
My mother’s golden locket
As I stare from my bedroom window
At the ground below.
She must have dropped it as she left
I thought to myself in a daze,
Still wondering why my walls were painted red
When I could have sworn they were blue this morning.
The sun is dark outside, at seven past the noontide,
And the stars are black as nails,
Maybe that’s why I can’t see them,
Or maybe it’s the iron in my eyes
Obscuring my vision,
As iron to iron
Is darkness to the Devil.
I see nothing but the black sun
Against the black skyscape
That is raised above the black pavement,
The street, no white or yellow lines painted down it,
The driveway, carless and hopeless,
Empty, save a golden locket.
A memorandum of my mom’s lost years,
Her adolescence, where did it go?
A picture of her at the young age of thirteen,
Sitting in her grandmother’s lap,
Smiling! Yes smiling!
(I haven’t seen her do that for years!)
As I stare outside, blankly, happiness
Not within my grasp, sadness
Several light years away,
I start to think,
My mind is invaded
By an army of ants
Marching, one by one
Across the terraform of my cerebral cortex.
I start to think,
Is she lost without her locket?
Where is her connection to the past?
No past means no future?
The streets are black at night,
The sky is black as well,
My mother, she is white,
No gold to help her through,
So Lord please tell me trite,
Is she headed for her doom?
Of invasive thoughts.
I see only the aura of
My mother’s golden locket
As I stare from my bedroom window
At the ground below.
She must have dropped it as she left
I thought to myself in a daze,
Still wondering why my walls were painted red
When I could have sworn they were blue this morning.
The sun is dark outside, at seven past the noontide,
And the stars are black as nails,
Maybe that’s why I can’t see them,
Or maybe it’s the iron in my eyes
Obscuring my vision,
As iron to iron
Is darkness to the Devil.
I see nothing but the black sun
Against the black skyscape
That is raised above the black pavement,
The street, no white or yellow lines painted down it,
The driveway, carless and hopeless,
Empty, save a golden locket.
A memorandum of my mom’s lost years,
Her adolescence, where did it go?
A picture of her at the young age of thirteen,
Sitting in her grandmother’s lap,
Smiling! Yes smiling!
(I haven’t seen her do that for years!)
As I stare outside, blankly, happiness
Not within my grasp, sadness
Several light years away,
I start to think,
My mind is invaded
By an army of ants
Marching, one by one
Across the terraform of my cerebral cortex.
I start to think,
Is she lost without her locket?
Where is her connection to the past?
No past means no future?
The streets are black at night,
The sky is black as well,
My mother, she is white,
No gold to help her through,
So Lord please tell me trite,
Is she headed for her doom?