A twisted poem about exploring people and the world around me for ideas to write about. |
-Night Machine- by Keaton Foster Asleep They lay Deadness Do they betray Their hearts Jealous sparks Indeed Beating Repeating Refusing every right Denying their plight Their eyes Closed Ever so tight No one really knows What do they see How this all will be Can they see both The present and the past Do they know what I don’t Do they understand what I won’t They dream such delicious dreams But when they are awake No secrets do they break They won’t tell me Nothing Nada Ni No details forthcoming Not a one I must take every inference From their subjugated nuance’s And their lives every purpose Every meaning must be opened Understood, and thus Somehow regurgitated It is what must be done Night machine Is my name A moniker That I won’t betray As they sleep in peace I run around in horror Wondering the impossible Betraying the plausible Laying down lines Of innocuous rhymes Those who brave The cluttered page As always As expected Some sanity need be rejected They do so at their own peril I can and do promise them Without question, nothing I only speak from my heart And from my ever deepening soul Some tell me they know That they dare to understand While others Far more I must admit Tell me that I am mad A poet with an empty page Living his life with one foot Firmly placed in the grave I am unafraid of death Unconcerned with what is said And with what is often suggested But what I do fear most Is living this entire life Not yours, not theirs Wholly mine Without leaving anything Of real substance behind That would be both A travesty and a tragedy One that I cannot And will not endure These words of course Are meant to be eternal Gods upon their own right Weights upon their own hearts That is what I wish What I hope beyond hope Night machine Is my name A moniker A way to identify me And the dire way In which I find inspiration And thus a method for Surviving my predicament… Night Machine Written by Keaton Foster Copyright © 2013 |