Filmstar eyes

by Kevin   May 17, 2009


My bones move fragile,
they say it's the cold
and sleeping more reasonless.
Could you repeat that for me?

My filters are wonderous,
they say it's experience,
but I just see history
same as its always.

My future's set in stone,
they say it's only natural.
I said that long ago,
things then though were changeable.

My bones move fragile,
they say it's because I'm cold.
I sleep because I'm reasonless.
I wish I could repeat that for me.

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  • 14 years ago

    by abracadabra

    I wanted to get away from your monotonous religious rants on the main boards and read some of your poetry again, in an attempt to find a fresher, more spiritual (though perhaps not quite as spirited) connection in you. This poem illustrates this perfectly.

    What a gentle poem this feels to me, with an underlying sadness. Something weathered and resigned about it. It seems to be about getting older, greyer, weaker, forgetfuller, with the scope of the world getting narrower in preparation to leave it. It ends with, not exactly regret, but a longing to live again. Really live, not simply watch yourself fade away. Ugh, although I don't mind growing older, I wish I could be spared this part of my life. I shall dread having less options, less attention and less freedom. The similarity between your first and last stanzas, though slightly contrived, does emphasise the cyclical nature of it all.

    How is your gran?

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