Power Cut

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
During a power-out

Submitted: November 25, 2007

A A A | A A A

Submitted: November 25, 2007



There is no reason or meaning, no romantic reaction,

This is but an extraction of words, that just acts as a distraction.

Here sitting useless in an uncomfortable bed, the power is gone,

And the cliché of doing this to candle light makes me sick.

I’m sick of my teachers, admirers and preachers too

And bag-faced old ladies on bus’ and their advice,

And bus drivers who pass your stop, if you press the bell twice.

My eyes are sinking to an irretrievable depth

And the hollow sounds that echo from my chest

Keep me up at night, sound resounding something like a heart beat.

Future for me holds no appeal, I wish only to obtain a memorable past.

Why not learn to earn and buy ivory crowns,

As all the penny’s from beggars pockets lye in wells

And the hairs from all young lovers lockets rot?

I’ve run flat now with nothing to write,

Fuck the lot 'o yi and have a wonderful night.

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