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Cailey Martin Poem
Your hedonistic desires
replaced by a gonz0-journalism truth
while you stand at the precipice,
crying at the high-water mark.
you're not alone,
a whole generation
of alma matter hopefuls
gather here
to stare at the place where
kerouac could write ten novels
leave me here
to waste energy
on hedonistic, wave-crest fantasy
far rom the sting of a breaking point.
Copyright © Cailey Martin | Year Posted 2008
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Details |
Cailey Martin Poem
Edie cries for everyone, thrown into bins
Dylan cried the blues
Joni parted yellow curtains
At The Chelsea this afternoon
overpaid prophets,
socialites and sattelites collide.
Take me away
bring me back to that Chelsea.
Broken free will combusts,
change your frame,
carry a shudder
but hold on so tight,
grasp irrelevant notions.
Keep everything at bay,
when the facade crumbles
you'll fall apart.
Nothing keeps you up.
When you were living in The Chelsea
I would walk by everyday.
When the glamour of it fades
you are empty and gone,
your blood wont flow
and you'll break down.
When you realize you aren't whole anymore.
Twenty eight, seventy one.
Faded.
When you trust too much.
Copyright © Cailey Martin | Year Posted 2008
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