Monthly Archives: January 2015

Last Page Scribbles – Note 1

1. WATERWAYS 

Someday,

I’ll bid goodbye to this land of melancholic whores

And go to a place

Where a huge tide will take me along

And I will meet new people and write new tales.

I will live a new life in a different time zone

running away from the place I call my home

to a place where I might find some love.

I will draw sketches of that mystical shore,

where white waves hit the rock and split.

I will sing a song to praise the beauty of the place

A place where heaven will fall before my eyes.

2. NIGHT BOOK

 

“Are you asleep?” I ask.

“No” you say.

A star was shining above,

The leaves withered around me,

And your breath was like a melody

in the still midnight.

“I could close my eyes”

“And die here in your arms” you say.

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Nightwalker

Little drops of rain fell from the heaven on a strange cold midnight

Little creatures crawl near the damaged crops while working their magic

Its a strange night where the dead has risen from a long sleep

to repair the lives of their loved ones who still cling to their memories.

 

Here I am, holding a cigarette in temptation to smoke again

If only that way I can feel your nicotine dipped lips

There is a half empty bottle of whiskey in my Jacket and I want to drink it

to feel your whiskey tongue which knew me better than my mirror.

 

The lust when you smoked with me for the first time in that February cold

And you took a drag, waiting to feel the heat while we held each others hand.

Times when you only drank whiskey when you were lost and sad and angry

And yet we finished a half bottle of Jack, neat, naked, in that February cold.

 

<Metaphysics> You are running away from life, and I am running away from death

and slowly someday our paths will collide and we will meet again

in another universe, in some other dimension where there won’t be any logic

time will freeze, and we will smoke and finish that half bottle of jack </metaphysics>

 

I am dead and you are sad and whiskey is your only companion tonight.

The grave digger rings a bell, commanding the dead to return back to sleep

I gather your scattered thoughts and try to compose you into something coherent

I am staring at your naked body from the broken window while little creatures crawl.