Violin Days
with a yawn, a stretch, and a few too many back cracks
a tactical warning to those who would disturb that
she fixes up her hair and gets dressed to the nines
and heads out that door to get any job she can find
sorry madam but you’re over qualified for this position
the words ring out but on the inside she’s not listening
there’s just too many people and there’s not enough jobs
keeping her from succeeding in understanding the mobs
the final door shuts and it’s time to head back again
this day like all others has it’s taint from that woman
taking the bus on the way back to the waters edge
waiting for that bitch to push her closer to that ledge
under the controlling reign of queen shit of fuck mountain
time keeps passing as there’s no more youth in that fountain
and when that queen comes back everything must squeak
clean and neat or the situation starts to become so bleak
so she picks up that mop to clean up this so called home
under this caesar’s rein we all know what you do in rome
it’s time to change again once there is no more dirt in sight
different shoes a few new scents and hope to ignore the plight
she expeditiously retreats with her cousin out the front door
afraid of the words that will be said from that fucking whore
with a gang of new friends it’s time to start that new life
it’s not happy but the smiles pour out forced by the strife
proud of the life she made out of this little origami blade
naturally blind to the design of the all of this blockade
she’s so proud of living in the trenches of her independence
but with this new life she will never get her transcendence
there can never be a soul that could say her path has any ease
she sticks with it, trudges through whilst ignoring the disease
she’s afraid that the wonderland that is offered might be a tease
and she’ll never known how everything can be fixed by that release
so she sits with her group making what friends that she can
with a random glimpse here and there of her life with her man
trying to flip open this book to the world that he creates
the easy life, it’s about damn time, but she always hesitates
Posted in Poetry |
