My former profession.
Bronx NY 86’ - sat in a corner, smoked and smoked
Eight rooms to be sanded, what a hope!
Yet I knew it was going to get done --
Just had to get done.
Even if it kills me
It will get done!
You see – gave my word
My word is all I have left.
My only treasure, my only quest
My only connection to what is real
All else has fled
Nothing left to barter a deal.
Felt like David
The giant to kill
Smoked, smoked some more ---
Now, where’s that ffffin’ sling?
Maybe I should imbibe to win
Or LSD, Leary’s thing
But no, I’m just left here, these rooms and I
These monsters breathing fire in my eye.
If I lose I may die, no one will know to cry
So, I looked them squarely in the eye
Said, ‘motherfxxxxxs' - you may win
But only so should I defend.
Sucked more nicotine of sin
Finally decided to load the sling
Took apart those earthly sins
Piece by piece a perfect win.
Stopped all time – its killing design
Took each piece and sanded it fine
In perfect moments – like my perfect soul
each as all, all as one.
Before I knew it I realized the whole
Didn’t feel the passage of time;
A day, a week - time lost its scold
Became aware of what I owned.
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|Reviewed by Andre Bendavi ben-YEHU
I like this composition for its imagery, contents and message.
Andre Emmanuel Bendavi ben-YEHU
|Reviewed by Karen Palumbo
|Very descriptive and filled with expressions of thought and reality all rolled into one desire....
|Reviewed by Regis Auffray
|I believe this can be interpreted on different levels. A poem worthy of more than a single reading. Thank you, Tom. Love and peace to you,
|Reviewed by JASMIN HORST SEILER
|A simple task, yet like life we make it so complicated, yet you have won to have the power for another day. A day a week- time lost its scold, is just one of the meaningful poetic phrases, very nice!
Blessings! Jasmin Horst
|Reviewed by Karen Vanderlaan
|there is much power in this write--can be metaphoric to life itself|