Sunday, November 21, 2010

An Ode to Modern Melodrama

Back amongst the stink of the suburbs,

stark as a buzzard,

drifting just a talon

away from the twinkling city,

an eye full of want,

a back full of bent oak trees

and sidewalk stenches

creeping like an abysmal

fog at the toes

of rotting picket fences,

Shuffling soles wish

for better circumstances

for life is viewed

as cadre of tireless dances

and the depressed never learn

the steps,

because life is draped

around the ankles like shackles

clinking to melodic drivel

they choose to define their lives by

until they’ve picked the bones

of melodrama dry,

Without reason to despair

and crippling fear

at the attention they’ll lose

they look to the past to craft

a fictitious noose,

a chance beating from Daddy

made worse by imaginary half truths

muttered loudly and constant

so that normality is impossible,

happiness ever distant

this process is common,

in fact it occurs

all too often,

the now saddened mind

had built quite the ornate coffin

in which this story receives it’s

telltale red stain,

the web of lies is so intricate

the hopeless must even pretend to be slain,

so let’s take a deep breath and start in

on those lovely and vital veins.

No comments:

Post a Comment