Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

GROAN

goin to moan
in the indigo night
my groaning bones
like the creaking
oak tree
down the street

rolled out roads
neon flashing
on rained on
pavement

cafes full
with young and old
clanging
banging
rolling

moving
on my dreary feet
sad shoes
slapping
reflections
on wet sidewalk
eyes downward
seeking reflections
of my own self
flashing
yellow
white
red

in the eyes
of strangers
on indigo stroll
there's my own
self
reflected there
a self not unknown
but elusive
a self bound
to a world
complex
this world

tv and the news
politics
and policy
school
work
mortgage
taxes and
death

life defined
obligatory
oratory
father
son
and unholy ghost
and so I roll
keep strolling
unfolded clouds
empty on my head
and others
histories
have brought
you and I
here
on
this long stroll
a dream
dreamt
knowing
our mind
not full
empty
as we wish
old rolled
bones
strolling
under
empty clouds
on an indigo
night

I like this - very noir. Can hear the rain pattering on the pavement, and somewhere a mournful sax

the poem has steady movement.....old bones on the run......maybe the sequel to Springsteens, Born to Run......what was that. like 50 years ago ?

Reminds me Jack Kerouac reading with saxophones wailing behind him!

quite a mouthful, bites of life and in the background, the blues