I'm Not There (part 2)

Moving On

 

I pull the red wagon

lick the vanilla cone in my mind

squeeze my fingers to warm them

catch & release a few films, and

 

ponder my purpose

 

It’s not warm enough here for me

The sweet smell of innocence beckons

to bloom in a French room

that doesn’t close for winter

 

The black cat eats my flowers, and

licks my tear

leaving me no choice but to smile

at the simple things I hold gratitude for

 

I’m Bob Dylan’s waif

Lil Wayne’s protégée

Brains before beauty, but

only one person is listening, and

 

he carries a pocket of Skoal

 

An expensive cigar is coming my way

Be on the lookout Little Havana

A woman in a pin-stripe fedora and Trump tie

is coming your way

 

I could get quite high

on the diversity of life in Miami, but

Charleston’s southern charm

might be what I need

 

Day in, day out

rude & ruthless people

blank expressions

non-existent friends are driving me away

 

from this abominable snow land

 

I write in the dark

Can’t see where there is too much contrast

I’ve never been one

to separate black & white

 

The closed minds can close themselves

in their carbon-monoxide infused

dry

dwellings

 

I need to breathe

 

My veins need to open again

 

These hands are worth more

than a $3 tip

 

You break me down people

You wear me down

I don’t have the energy

for your negative energy anymore

 

I have cooked in my chrysalis, and

I will re-emerge more beautiful

 

watch & weep

 

 

Hasta La Vista

Reviews

[Julian]

I like the visuals and the colours in this...they add weight to the emotions expressed. This one reveals the artist in you. Part two certainly hits this readers target.