Last poem to my 'father'..
sat yourself down, placed your feet on the carpet
- leaving dirt lines;
But we're no longer present
and things like carpets - can't scream out loud.
I would.
Meanwhile, you're being served
like king, of some district unknown;
Every time you come around
- you bring gifts and jokes,
which are as old as I am,
but it doesn't matter - for they will laugh
and love you.
Afterall - you care.
I wear blue now and I'm 21.
Do you remember?
How in the maternity room
you were touched by the miracle of birth -
next door to mine.
I don't know what happened to that child,
You don't know what happened to me.
Once you'll be in the hospital bed,
somewhere in the land all gone
And even the nurses will adore you -
amusing as you were -
always being the familiar stranger;
I was the secret, you - the perfect civilian,
Helping everyone out, no matter the cost.
I sold myself like meat, they put my face
up, up on a ceiling.
I sold my legs, my feet and
they painted me in every color of the rainbow.
I've been a statue, a pilot,
even a greeting for the king -
until my alarm went off
and my head - exploaded like a bomb:
They chose my flesh out like meat
and hang me up, up on a ceiling.
They used my legs, my feet
and squized me out until the rainbow,
became just a bow;
I've been too many things,
like dolls and hookers,
pictures in the magazines.
Now - I am just sleep.
And I am no longer present,
in the forgotten land..
Poetry by FrancescaLuca
Read 917 times
Written on 2008-04-08 at 18:10
Save as a bookmark (requires login)
Write a comment (requires login)
Send as email (requires login)
Print text
Stranger
You entered the house in the forgotten land,sat yourself down, placed your feet on the carpet
- leaving dirt lines;
But we're no longer present
and things like carpets - can't scream out loud.
I would.
Meanwhile, you're being served
like king, of some district unknown;
Every time you come around
- you bring gifts and jokes,
which are as old as I am,
but it doesn't matter - for they will laugh
and love you.
Afterall - you care.
I wear blue now and I'm 21.
Do you remember?
How in the maternity room
you were touched by the miracle of birth -
next door to mine.
I don't know what happened to that child,
You don't know what happened to me.
Once you'll be in the hospital bed,
somewhere in the land all gone
And even the nurses will adore you -
amusing as you were -
always being the familiar stranger;
I was the secret, you - the perfect civilian,
Helping everyone out, no matter the cost.
I sold myself like meat, they put my face
up, up on a ceiling.
I sold my legs, my feet and
they painted me in every color of the rainbow.
I've been a statue, a pilot,
even a greeting for the king -
until my alarm went off
and my head - exploaded like a bomb:
They chose my flesh out like meat
and hang me up, up on a ceiling.
They used my legs, my feet
and squized me out until the rainbow,
became just a bow;
I've been too many things,
like dolls and hookers,
pictures in the magazines.
Now - I am just sleep.
And I am no longer present,
in the forgotten land..
Poetry by FrancescaLuca
Read 917 times
Written on 2008-04-08 at 18:10
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text
|
Catacomb Villain |
|
lastromantichero |
|
Elle |
| Texts |
 by FrancescaLuca Latest textsStillHurricane Office Man Waves Polaroids |
Increase font
Decrease