The cement grinds my shoes
as I resist the lonely slog
from car to sterilized elevator.
Giant waves stir deeply and compel
me to run away, get blasted, but
I’ve been trained, so I suffer, I crawl.
Alcoholism, Depression, Fear, Take Me To The Hospital
This entry was posted on August 29, 2013, 2:21 pm and is filed under Poems. You can follow any responses to this entry through RSS 2.0.
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#1 by Hudson Howl on August 29, 2013 - 3:03 pm
compulsion loses or did compulsion win….negative over positive and how does one define the correct way in which to live a life…. a life is a life even those at siege and in turmoil ……..good or bad that which compels must have some merit to it …is a six line poem better or worst than an 100 line odyssey?
#2 by Carl on September 2, 2013 - 4:28 pm
Hudson, thank you for your thoughtful comment. Really, it makes me wonder whether either side of the coin is positive, makes me think that there must be a third side.
#3 by Hudson Howl on September 2, 2013 - 7:28 pm
are you talking sides or a room with plenty of windows but lacking a door
#4 by Carl on September 2, 2013 - 8:06 pm
Yes, you escape via the skylight, the fourth dimension.
#5 by Hudson Howl on September 2, 2013 - 10:21 pm
#6 by Carl on September 4, 2013 - 9:49 am
That brings out the dead in me!
#7 by clinock on August 29, 2013 - 11:58 pm
HH has some strong points – but maybe it’s time for a change Carl – life is short. You hit it right on with your words – fine citizen that you are – I’ve been there but got out with life still in me…
#8 by Carl on September 2, 2013 - 4:30 pm
Thank you for your comment, John. Some day, I want to figure it out the way you have. You have a very full life in you!
#9 by Carl D'Agostino on September 3, 2013 - 1:07 am
I’ve been trained – life does this to us and few rebels survive
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