Painted Black
I see a red door and I want it painted black
No colors anymore, I want them to turn black
I see the girls walk by, dressed in their summer clothes
I have to turn my head until my darkness goes
I see a line of cars and they are painted black
With flowers and my love, both never to come back
I see the people turn their head and quickly look away
Like a new born baby it happens every day
I look inside myself, and see my heart is black
I see my red door and its heading into black
Maybe I’ll fade away and not have to face the facts
It’s not easy facing up when your whole world is black
No more will my green sea, go turn a deeper blue
I could not foresee this thing happening to you
I want to see it painted, painted black
Black as night
Black as coal
I want to see the sky blocked out
I want to see it painted, painted black
© 1979
Sunday, January 18, 2004
Bounded to a Time and Place
Bounded to a time and place~
Bounded to a time and place, a never never endless face, a place in time that is surrounded by a wondering mind of a never ending confusion rhyme. To others they see a mouthy being, one who is sharp and sassy with no care or feelings. To those who know and know so well, there is a greater purpose to those spun words of fearless appears. To catch the attention of one so bold, to open their mind to another world, one that is outside of this box that keeps the rhythm of key strokes and word counts so one can continue to peek.
Bounded by a time and place, I sit here pondering who is next to face. To see the world as it once spun by, to watch the faces climb in and out of my eyes. To wonder how the world has moved on, in seconds and milliseconds to a beat that is gone. From my eyes I notice the leaves turned and fallen, a world that has stopped in motion yet is beating outward.
Traveling threw a wire to communicate, traveling to millions who don’t even know your existence or faith. Watching them slowing move past, wondering if they too can feel the motion stop. Fighting to push the time to continue, not broadening your boundaries but yet waiting for some sign that will show me when it is time.
Starry eyed and mind flickering at light speed, I wonder when I can finally release. Release my tension of not moving forward, release my momentum for it is stale and swollen. Release my mind from these thoughts of endlessness, release my position of close-mindedness. Sitting in this chair of release, moving forward in words that help me come to ease. Finding a way to express each of my moods.
Sitting here, watching out the window, I see the world at a stop, no movement, no gleam. It has stopped, no motion, no time, this is my endless blind eye. Bounded in this state of usuries and unknowns, watching the trees loose their leaves and drop slowly to the ground. Dead upon arrival, hitting the ground with easy, I sit and ponder if the leaves are me. Watching them blow with the wind, move slightly an inch but to them, no movement at all.
I watched them dance to their final grave, they looked so innocent, braking off with easy. Gracefully floating to the ground in the wind, they finally look like deaths beckoned end. Time seems to be the only thing that will heal these lost souls of the land, time will take them, bury and move forward with its master plan. The season will change, the tree with grow, branching out a new growth of life and the cycle is reborn.
So, once again I bound to a place and time, endless thoughts run threw my mind. Dancing dreams of when the clock will wine, patiently waiting for the motions to glide.
~ PkS © 2004
Bounded to a time and place, a never never endless face, a place in time that is surrounded by a wondering mind of a never ending confusion rhyme. To others they see a mouthy being, one who is sharp and sassy with no care or feelings. To those who know and know so well, there is a greater purpose to those spun words of fearless appears. To catch the attention of one so bold, to open their mind to another world, one that is outside of this box that keeps the rhythm of key strokes and word counts so one can continue to peek.
Bounded by a time and place, I sit here pondering who is next to face. To see the world as it once spun by, to watch the faces climb in and out of my eyes. To wonder how the world has moved on, in seconds and milliseconds to a beat that is gone. From my eyes I notice the leaves turned and fallen, a world that has stopped in motion yet is beating outward.
Traveling threw a wire to communicate, traveling to millions who don’t even know your existence or faith. Watching them slowing move past, wondering if they too can feel the motion stop. Fighting to push the time to continue, not broadening your boundaries but yet waiting for some sign that will show me when it is time.
Starry eyed and mind flickering at light speed, I wonder when I can finally release. Release my tension of not moving forward, release my momentum for it is stale and swollen. Release my mind from these thoughts of endlessness, release my position of close-mindedness. Sitting in this chair of release, moving forward in words that help me come to ease. Finding a way to express each of my moods.
Sitting here, watching out the window, I see the world at a stop, no movement, no gleam. It has stopped, no motion, no time, this is my endless blind eye. Bounded in this state of usuries and unknowns, watching the trees loose their leaves and drop slowly to the ground. Dead upon arrival, hitting the ground with easy, I sit and ponder if the leaves are me. Watching them blow with the wind, move slightly an inch but to them, no movement at all.
I watched them dance to their final grave, they looked so innocent, braking off with easy. Gracefully floating to the ground in the wind, they finally look like deaths beckoned end. Time seems to be the only thing that will heal these lost souls of the land, time will take them, bury and move forward with its master plan. The season will change, the tree with grow, branching out a new growth of life and the cycle is reborn.
So, once again I bound to a place and time, endless thoughts run threw my mind. Dancing dreams of when the clock will wine, patiently waiting for the motions to glide.
~ PkS © 2004
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