One of those Nights.
One of those nights
lost between the lines
lost between the chairs
life has left
One of those nights
my room turned
into a nut- shell
the Quantum Singularity
Of Existence sucking
myself out
of myself
One of those nights
I heard The Sound
Of Nothing
hammering
my closed in walls
One of those nights
puking black ink
over and over
an innocent paper
struggling with
Bloody Impotence
One of those nights
I didn't loose my mind
between the pages
of some
Sketchbook of Passions
or some
Scribblings of Pulp
One of those nights
I didn't dance
the Razorblade -Swing
Some sleepless night in front of a desk ...
Chaske
I enjoyed reading this,
For a moment I felt I was reading 'Energy of Slaves' and it compelled me to revisit my copy and I came across 'One of these days'.
I then wanted to play some music and I reached for 'Meddle' by Pink Floyd and I came across 'One of these days'
I guess it's been one of those nights.
Thankyou for the poem Chaske.
Pete
I enjoyed reading this,
For a moment I felt I was reading 'Energy of Slaves' and it compelled me to revisit my copy and I came across 'One of these days'.
I then wanted to play some music and I reached for 'Meddle' by Pink Floyd and I came across 'One of these days'
I guess it's been one of those nights.
Thankyou for the poem Chaske.
Pete
-
Chaske
Dear Peter,
well yes, it was one of these nights.
I had locked me away in my kitchen, it was the night I actually wanted to start a further prose work and all I did at least was this poem.
There was that stanza I finally cut off in the end version that goes:
" One of those nights
I sensed
The Great Wound
and the Pain of Words
crawling
through my guts "
I guess, that gives a good picture of that night, but there are too much metaphors comparing to the other stanzas. So I erased it.
Well, after writing this I was able to start my actual work in the lights of a beautifully blushing morning.
well yes, it was one of these nights.
I had locked me away in my kitchen, it was the night I actually wanted to start a further prose work and all I did at least was this poem.
There was that stanza I finally cut off in the end version that goes:
" One of those nights
I sensed
The Great Wound
and the Pain of Words
crawling
through my guts "
I guess, that gives a good picture of that night, but there are too much metaphors comparing to the other stanzas. So I erased it.
Well, after writing this I was able to start my actual work in the lights of a beautifully blushing morning.
razorblade-swing
Hi chaske,
I like your poem, but I think it's far too sad to finish with rather funny expressions like razorblade-swing and dancing. Maybe you could explain to me how you came up with that. I'd prefere something more profound.
Lizard
I like your poem, but I think it's far too sad to finish with rather funny expressions like razorblade-swing and dancing. Maybe you could explain to me how you came up with that. I'd prefere something more profound.
Lizard