Commentary and Philosophy Poetry posted August 27, 2013 Chapters: Prologue 1 -2- 3... 


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free verse

A chapter in the book Free Verse Collection 2

Journey

by michaelcahill


So, you think this might
be a good night
        to open that door
                    and go in that room


and pull back that
            worn out rug--
            grab the rusty handle
                     of whatever they call
                     a door in the floor
and descend that
stupid splintered
            tritely symbolic
                         ladder
                               to that 

rocky cavernous

                             expanse


with that cobblestone
            road that is only cobblestone
                           for the sake of style


that damn road 
        waiting for a
               brave walk
to put a hint of wear
              somewhere on its surface, anywhere


and then
      wind my way
           round the bend
                 past the damned
                         photo gallery
with those insipid snapshots
of that pathetic construct
in the black hat
                   with the clever "I'm a mystery" glare


with the silent lips
that speak the same
volume and insight that a dark
             photo might let you hear


and if you hear anything
well, you see, you're the
          clever one for not a word
                                          was spoken


and there is that child's
drawing
        of the guy posed
                     with the guitar
all the children loved
         for what would a child love
                                                 after all


and then around another bend
that worn out game board
                  those game pieces
                      broken, scattered about unmoving
with those spotless dice
           inviting play in a game
                  where only the winner knows the rules


and finally,
     close to the destination,
that room full of echoes
in search of a solid surface
        searching frantically for
                validation from
a solid surface
           a solid surface
                   without which an echo is not


and so, they float about
the mindless ugly little
baby that opens its mouth
           and screams into the
                                      vacuum


for all the air was
                   long ago used


and what must that scream
                                               sound like?


perhaps, a frozen ocean
            balancing on a needle
                           falling through an
                                   endless glass tube
      sliding on a single grain of sand


lost


             I jump
                    and hope this is not

                                                 the final stop ...



 



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