Thursday, July 17, 2008

Again Train...(for The Book--- 6 Strings of the Clock---by Tacs)

It streams past the stark trees,
Bound together by silver strings-
They fleet on by soundlessly…
It looks on, as I stumble upon
The bricks of my misplaced platform.
And I am humbled down, now I am alone.
Repenting not pulling the chain,
Not stopping the train, I am
Lost, homeless, and in my wait, I am stoned.

Now only illusions-neon beneath the starry legions-
Glint brighter to falsify my all conscious convictions.
And I know, in the wisdom wrought alone by hallucinations,
-As I squint in the dark
To check my broken clock-
Whatever time, it tells, is the time… that my walk backwards begins.

Home, this limp body, suddenly pines for home,
These drunken steps leave the platform,
This time, these naked feet hit the gravel,
These cold, white, rain-soaked feet will be my train…
They bleed already, but I cannot wait. My train,
It will stream past the stark trees again…

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