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Tag Archives: originalpoetry.org

John Faa of Dunbar (nomad song-Westward Ho)

Meet the nomads of America,

the misfits of our race

the ones who ride on rails in boxcars

Carrying Lives

from place to place.

Meet the ones

Who stick out thumbs,

Gypsies of the high plains

and Roma tribes of Oregon.

The state fair circus folk

with peculiar tattooed faces,

Staring through the sunburnt haze

into the depths

of outer space.

The carny girls

who pass through town

and band van drifters

who just don’t

stick around…

it’s something that we

have never had,

but i guess that’s all it really is;

just a different type of being sad,

the hunted vagabond kid.

the loneliness of the road,

the freedom of the wanderer,

the empty absence of a home-

but at times i think,

Fuck it let’s go,

Pack my shit

and

Westward Ho.

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POW

The solider knelt,

knees in the dirt,

tired of the hurt.

For months they held him

P.O.W.

Only for an end

like this.

 

The smooth cold circle on his neck.

His captors said he was an example

for those who might think of freedom

Now just knees in the dirt.

Different from the dirt

on the farm back home.

This dirt yielded no crops

It only held the dead from rising up.

 

A purple flower blossomed.

Just below his eye

It bloomed, wilted and ran,

down his cheek.

He looked down

as if to examine a spot on his collar,

just before he leaned forward and kissed

the dirt in front of him.


Tribute

It bums me out

that Robin’s dead

cause of the dark thoughts

in his head.

It bums me out

that Robin died

or that he even had

thoughts of suicide.


Face

Put on that

happy face

and don’t disgrace

the human race

just find your place,

your mind; erase.


Alone

I’m more alone

surrounded by thousands of peers

then I’ve ever been

on my own.


Lost At Sea

I am lost at sea

and this doggie paddle

ain’t doin’ much

against these twelve foot

monsters

that just keep

coming and coming and coming…


406

Don’t let go, don’t let go. What was once yours, slipping ever so slowly.

Lost focus. Carelessness. Pride.

Tighten your grip, C’mon, before it’s too late. Don’t let go.

Stop standing idle, take control, tighten your grip.

For God’s sake, DO NOT LET GO.

That’s what happens. Juggling the unnecessary and humoring the needless.

Softening your grip.

Now too late, losing all control.

A once bolstering man, reduced to nothing.

Sweaty hands.. Just Don’t let go. Don’t let her go.

 

How did this happen..


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