February 2, 2013
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Life, forgotten
The Old Man:
A fire that singes.
All these children are lost!
The Children:City lights. We’re on on a stage!
In the streets they all know my face.
The sky opens up:
You are not seen.
Your life is a word that no one means.(If you are lost then you are a not a child.)
The Old Man:
‘Do you know this man?’ the officer asked.
‘No!’ she replied.
They dropped all charges and set him free.
The unknown can hardly be held responsible.
They have lost it all.What’s never sought is never found.
What’s never heard has no sound.
This world is filled with open ground.
I’ll die alone and keep it proud.I’m warming my icy hands, I feel a fire!
Why am I here?
Is to forget to be lost?
The Children (Older):A fire that singes. A million witches.
My heart wobbles in your silences.
You forget my face between our scenes.
Just like a peasant to so many queens.Kids drive to the lives they are after.
Time will release all that we captured.
I see a dark forest of life forgotten.
Who will find the rooms we fought in?The Old Man:
No one is sad about a life they forget.
Time saves us from ourselves.All jokes are sad, and questions too.
Empty chairs, that I used to be two.
A life of love, but nothing that’s true.
A garden of hope but nothing that grew.There could never be enough Time!
God!The (Very Old) Children:
My life changed at a stoplight.
What is rest?Happy scenes are all that we got.
Once they end:
they’re not what we thought.
Circles and squares that don’t quite fit.
Didn’t he say to hope is to forget?She asked me ‘Will you be long?’
I said ‘No, no, darling, nothing is wrong.’
‘Where is it you would rather be?’
‘But didn’t you hear? It doesn’t matter to me.’A fire that singes.
I wear my clothes over the scar.
And sleep in a made bed.
