• Wednesday, Apr 24, 2019
  • Last Update : 02:23 am

Brief paused nights

  • Published at 05:56 pm February 9th, 2019
Brief paused nights

Poem

In these brief, paused nights

The running after warm talks seems reasonable 

An unexpected "how are you" seems valuable, desired 


Humans are good at feeling lonely

Star-crossed long roads they pass

Wide bellied silence painted in their skulls

And often shoot guns in loving solitude 

Often chased by that old ghost of impermanence

Often seek and find sorrow and keep them in treasured memories

Humans feel themselves at brief, paused, nights like these, perhaps most truly yet most silently


And when their lonely fingers, smooth over virtual keyboards to write replies to others on the other end of loneliness 

They often pause

They become one with brief, paused nights like these


The air hangs about heavily,

Gloom in sweaty thickness,

Panting aloof, the blinding madness of stray dogs on a rebel midnight


One or two tobacco rolls burn in serene rhythm

The beatnik up and down of light-dark, light-dark

Books are read nonchalantly 

And walls are stared at, blankness peers through the soul of souls


And manic memories of lost love

Find their way in

Unwelcomed, strong 


Search for meanings seems laughable 

Nothing makes sense

And greatly nothing matters


Humans on the loose

Beware


With their behemoth intelligence 

They feel trapped

And tectonic giants strangle them with data


Humans 


They feel they might have failed

Even after all these

In brief, paused nights like these