BJ&K#4

poem, poems, poetry, writing

I call her thief because she took it.

Like an earthquake broke up the dirt

Beneath my toes and shook it.

I took it but I am not a thief, just a wanderer

With nothing to lose and no time for grief.

Cigarettes holding onto my breath

Cigarettes counting down the seconds in this brief life.

Choking the last sense of relief and dripping

The ink from my pen’s soul.

Slouching over ancient keyboards as the sky turns to black coal.

You stole what you stole

And I hold onto words that were foretold.

Come to me through the rabbit hole

And we will together tumble into infinity.

I spotted a soul star tonight,

Might have been part of the big dipper,

Or a piece of Orion’s belt buckle.

We all buckle over words on the page

Is it about peace or the tussle?

Late night practice just part of the hustle.

Found a partner in crime, unsuspecting and emanating

Star light,

Moon light,

Day light

We all fall through these cracks

Called hour lapse.

Come to me and tell me

Which way is North.

Been directionless my whole life.

Not devoid of strife

Devoid of a full night.

We all play games of humble mobility

Take my hand and

Wander through tranquility.

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