I am the harbinger
For those around me I seek the message
To return with what happens outside
Of the village we live in Mon Dieu,
Je suis vieux, je commence à être aigri !
Says the man who cannot stay up
Past midnight or wakes up with
A dehydrated tongue and warm brain
Will he be lenient with himself he asks?
A debt of treason to behold yourself
On the shadows of your heart
Without the clever memory
Of recalling that we are not only
Our thoughts from today
We are also our memories of tomorrow
I woke up yesterday believing
There was one way to do things
But today feels like the body is
Vibrating at a different frequency
How are we surviving and in what color?
Curiously displaced he pushed his way
Out of the sadness and nothingness
Into the reason for continuing on
Without the pressure of something
Coming up behind him
Was it an echo effect of a past lover
Of the silhouette of some other
Emotion that was hanging in the air
From time spent in old bars
That had seen the life of writers like
Kerouac and Ginsberg?
If their ghosts were keeping him company
There was no need to disinvite them
Some say it was only the sun casting
Shadows on his back before the return
© GÄ
Poétique 