The Path I Take

The Path I Take

A Chapter by Not here

In a long, strong, beating pace of a heart or a march.


There's a boy on the other side of town about to die.
He's an overstated, complicated man and so am I.
Please, will you tell him a story? Maybe let him sing along?
I and we are so utterly scared to be completely wrong.

March the men out of the back, and let them go on their way.
We have no use for them, no excuse to keep them here today.
If they're happy, let them flee. If they're sad, then let them see
things will get better the next day if you only live to be.

Ninety-three, a ripe old age, but for the boy who will die
he would love to just be twelve, eleven, or maybe nine.
And if words don't always rhyme perfectly he doesn't care.
It would be nice in the moment to have a black strand of hair.

Cold and frigid, losing hope, while the world outside is shot.
It's no wonder that he starts to think if ever there's a thought
about him in the community, or if anyone cares.
Can they care for a little boy who could number all his hairs?

On the other side of town, a baby girl is born.
She is new and very smiling, but soon she will be worn.
Life tears down and doesn't give; takes your life and with it lives.
At the end of the day, all of us are still captives.

Smile for me, little boy. You would make a fine poster.
And the sales that are decreasing you would very quickly bolster.
Leave the brains, forget the names. Just remind me your disease.
Can we take a human mannequin and make him human, please?


© 2016 Not here


My Review

Would you like to review this Chapter?
Login | Register




Reviews

A pretty thought-provoking poem this one. And it leaves me with a melancholic feeling of helpless when I think about the countless people out there who have their days numbered, wondering if they would be remembered.

I love you work. And this one is no exception. Beautifully written and so deep as usual. Thanks for sharing. :)

- moonlight

Posted 7 Years Ago


Not here

7 Years Ago

THank you :) I appreciate it.
"Cold and frigid, losing hope, while the world outside is shot"- there goes the irony. It is true that a boy who had thousands of dreams and a heart filled with warmth will turn frigid just for an irresistable event, a gruesome reality. But the world will remain a ' mannequin museum ' where mannequins stroll like ' living dead '. The melancholy of the dying person is quite mournful.

I've adopted the literal meaning of death, but there is another meaning I must admit. Best wishes,David. It really feels great to read your works after all these months. :-)

Posted 7 Years Ago


Not here

7 Years Ago

Thanks Rafy :) I really appreciate it! My posting on here has really slowed down, sadly, because lif.. read more
Really well written. I loved this poem!

Posted 8 Years Ago


Not here

8 Years Ago

Thank you Riley :) I appreciate it very much!
Dante. A poem that open the door to many questions. I believe we must lead with concern, kindness and love. Even the Government. When the eyes of the world turn cold and blind. What will happen to the people empty and alone. Thank you my friend for sharing the amazing poetry.
Coyote

Posted 8 Years Ago


Not here

8 Years Ago

Thank you Coyote for reading :) I really appreciate it!
Coyote Poetry

8 Years Ago

A powerful poem Dante and you are welcome.
Loved this.Thanks for sharing dear friend David :)!

Posted 8 Years Ago


Not here

8 Years Ago

Thank you! I appreciate it. I'm trying to get back into writing more on here.

Share This
Email
Facebook
Twitter
Request Read Request
Add to Library My Library
Subscribe Subscribe


Stats

412 Views
5 Reviews
Rating
Added on November 12, 2016
Last Updated on November 12, 2016


Author

Not here
Not here

WA



About
welcome more..

Writing
Midnight Midnight

A Chapter by Not here


Morning Morning

A Chapter by Not here