The Blade Over the Tape
"THE BLADE OVER THE TAPE"
as the breeze
dances on my
face,
the smoke from
my cigarette finds
love in the sky.
as the breeze
dances on my
face,
Gould plays the
Goldberg Variations.
as the breeze
dances on my
face,
Bukowski's words
find home in
my blood.
as the breeze
dances on my
face,
this coffee
burns my tongue.
as the breeze
dances on my
face,
my tears, my
heartache,
the death of my
soul, seem
nonexistent.
as the breeze
dances on my
face,
the cigarette has
burnt out,
Gould's piano
is silent,
Bukowski's poetry
is done and
the coffee has gotten
cold.
my heartache,
my tears,
the death of my
soul is
back.
reality.
the fight against the
darkness has
been
glorious.
the fight I fight,
still
is.
By: Chicano Eddie
9-16-2016
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