O sweet winter,
Will you become before dinner?
It's in this room, I prepare to die,
Its in this room, I once touched the sky.
And in these hallways, now I stand,
And in these corridors, I just don't understand.
Could it be, will it be,
And everything just slipping from me?
Let's write another love song for Prufrock,
Let's find another mind to unlock.
Let's dream for another city,
Or die in this fool of pity.
And so when will it end?
If life's a journey, I'm on a bend.
But I'll bend like a fountain,
But not stand on a mountain.
But I'll dance with the sisters,
And be polite with all the misters.
For just one more time,
While you listen to my whine.
I'll have another wine,
Just sit and watch all the TV, religion and crime.
But this cigarette doesn't do me good,
And I seem to have left the food.
I'm out on the street,
I forgot who I have to meet.
I think,
But I like to drink.
We just hide in the corners of our minds,
And they're just too many of their kinds.
They mock,
But they're empty as a Christian sock.
We're only drifters in a maze,
Just attending theatre for plays.
We're down and out,
We have no clout.
O darn summer,
Don't you hear their soft murmur.
O sweet winter,
Will you become before dinner?
Will you become before dinner?
It's in this room, I prepare to die,
Its in this room, I once touched the sky.
And in these hallways, now I stand,
And in these corridors, I just don't understand.
Could it be, will it be,
And everything just slipping from me?
Let's write another love song for Prufrock,
Let's find another mind to unlock.
Let's dream for another city,
Or die in this fool of pity.
And so when will it end?
If life's a journey, I'm on a bend.
But I'll bend like a fountain,
But not stand on a mountain.
But I'll dance with the sisters,
And be polite with all the misters.
For just one more time,
While you listen to my whine.
I'll have another wine,
Just sit and watch all the TV, religion and crime.
But this cigarette doesn't do me good,
And I seem to have left the food.
I'm out on the street,
I forgot who I have to meet.
I think,
But I like to drink.
We just hide in the corners of our minds,
And they're just too many of their kinds.
They mock,
But they're empty as a Christian sock.
We're only drifters in a maze,
Just attending theatre for plays.
We're down and out,
We have no clout.
O darn summer,
Don't you hear their soft murmur.
O sweet winter,
Will you become before dinner?
Labels: Beatnik drivel
posted by jairaj at Sunday, September 09, 2007
4 Comments:
You know what they say, you don't know where you're going until you know where you've been. This gives you a bit to think about in that sense, and a lot to think otherwise. Excellent man, excellent.
Thanks...
hey jerry man!
nice poem bro, great lines, you catch a kind of humour and at the same time some seriousness all in the same moment..
good read and a nice way to return to the masters margaritas for me.
cheers..
"We are a thought lurking in the dark corners of mind, only to come out as words on a misty and smoky winter evening."
Loved it! But I think there are still few raw edges which need to be trimmed. Keep writing!
Post a Comment
<< Home