Poetry For Everyday People
CB
Well it was just a day
like any other,
life was a blur
and I went to the book store
to find an ally,
a cure,
sitting on the floor
grabbing at the poetry books,
a line here, a page there,
sense of some sorts
yet meaning was mostly hidden,
as if to complicate
the complicated,
then I grabbed a book
with piano keys
on the cover
as if giving my mind a chance
right off the bat
to dance,
"play the piano drunk
like a percussion instrument
until the fingers
begin to bleed a bit"
I opened it
the first poem was
"tough company"
I fell in deep
it was
as if taken an empty glass
to the sun
held up and filled it
full of shine
the kind of shine
that lights a different
kind of darkness,
unfiltered truth,
a map for the lonely,
the trapped,
I came back
the next day and bought it,
took it home, a friend,
two men a million miles apart
both trying to make it
without giving in,
he's one of few
close friends
that I have never met:
but I cheer him often.
like any other,
life was a blur
and I went to the book store
to find an ally,
a cure,
sitting on the floor
grabbing at the poetry books,
a line here, a page there,
sense of some sorts
yet meaning was mostly hidden,
as if to complicate
the complicated,
then I grabbed a book
with piano keys
on the cover
as if giving my mind a chance
right off the bat
to dance,
"play the piano drunk
like a percussion instrument
until the fingers
begin to bleed a bit"
I opened it
the first poem was
"tough company"
I fell in deep
it was
as if taken an empty glass
to the sun
held up and filled it
full of shine
the kind of shine
that lights a different
kind of darkness,
unfiltered truth,
a map for the lonely,
the trapped,
I came back
the next day and bought it,
took it home, a friend,
two men a million miles apart
both trying to make it
without giving in,
he's one of few
close friends
that I have never met:
but I cheer him often.
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