roses and rain

[revolutionrabbit]

And you there all tattered and lonesome
down to the bone stripped of words
words without store bought language
words dressed to kill like they
have some secret magic
some outrage to our senses
dirty words spit delicacies
out of the mouth of whores and poets
words waiting around on city corners
ready to burst forth in jibberish
jabbering at the casual passerby
with no object out of the depths of madness
to spew fucking nonsense for the heck of it
to play with what is possibly cool
because I don't know what is cool
we are all waiting around to be cool
we want to talk about what the cat dragged in
or speak in hushed phrases with no meaning
we know by some fluke of reason
that this is where the real meaning lies
to say the most forbidden forlorn falsehood
without checking if anyone is paying attention
trying to say the impossible without trying
death just on the other side of your last word
when at the end of a long poem you just forgot
why you began writing it at the beginning
it always had to do with roses and rain
and the way her eyes smiled when you first said hello

[theirishsea]

And you there all tattered and lonesome
down to the bone striped of words

stripped, right?

[revolutionrabbit]

words are kinda stripy
so it could be either stripped or striped
not sure why I missed the spelling
the way I write is totally hap hazard
my spelling has never been my forte
not sure why prolly brain circuitry
was not good at math either
actually a lot of things I never excelled in
like my favorite poet wrote, "I never really
learned how to live"or like Dylan, he's not busy
being born, he's busy dying" of course in the context
he put that, he was talking about the mass mentality.
or "it's easy to see without looking too far, that not much
is really sacred" I guess poetry would be looking for that
small margin, the sacred in the profane.