november lost

november comes in underneath the wooden door
it doesn’t knock
to the bone, I’m chilled alright
my spirit may be frozen in a long stream of ice.
light up, warm my lips
on a dizzy mind.

all up and down, I’m fine
I’m surviving a golden spell.
the music brings me through, though
the promises which mostly commit suicide on the wind.

A puff of smoke helps hush all the doubts away
I’ll clean up again, my own trail
and find another way
again, sweeping through the heavy brush
scattering ashes in my wake.

It’s a time to die, after all.
We all deserve it anyways, at least we’re free
we’re all preparing with our different religions
hoping it’ll end eventually but not too soon.
I’ll take my coffin in dust

Rise from the ashes of the sea
born again, a great fiery bird
to see the world from greater heights
feeling strange to be happy
The world looks OK from up here

maybe I’ll survive another year,
I fall, day from day.


8 thoughts on “november lost

  1. brian miller says:

    nice…the promises commiting suicide sets the tone well…the chill in the bones…and i like the doubt in the final lines it leaves us contemplative…

  2. Yes, there’s not much good about the news and our world as it is today but, we must never lose that little bit of hope because, where there’s hope, there’s life, and, vice versa. Deep thoughts and spoken with a raw edged honesty.

  3. Neinei says:

    I like this first line, great imagery: november comes in underneath the wooden door… :)

    Thanks for stopping by my blog…

  4. Morning says:

    stunning imagery along with beautiful emotions.

    Glad to see you share.

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