Friday, December 5, 2008

Alya's Funk

Like air to lungs
This pen and pad
Lets me breathe
It keeps me needing
Selling my self-respect
For just a hit
Of that inspiration to drip
I can't contain this feeling
Like me
It's claustrophobic

It straight pimps me
As I walk the streets
Of my mind looking for that
Lonely corner
For some peace to find

Wrapped up in this chaotic hole
I feel all my wrongs
From yesterdayto days long gone
Swinging and missing
The stench of a roaming dog
And his territorial pissing
Marking the home
Inspiration and I once shared
Abandoned, stranded
Back due rent
No letter left
Or dropped dime
For the time spent

Battered, baffled, dazed and confused
Abused, misused recluse
Struggling to see my use
I search for lie's truths
Contradictions visit and leave again
Metaphoric beatings for my past poetic sin
Of the fornication of this pad and pen
I drop my head in this lament
Can you feel my astonishment
As this chaotic hole once called home
Now gone?

© Alya Landry 2008

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