This Is America

 

I'm bleeding,
the moon is in a coma.
The heat sparked a fire,
    that burned my soul down.
        And I could not mourn for it.
The bullfrogs
    out by the lake
        keep the neighborhood awake.
    I turn on some music to drown them out
       but I forgot to
         shut my windows.
              Sad songs never have saved anyone.
I'm not helping
    the carpet is dirty with paint stains
    clothes strewn about
        sprawled on the bed, smiling
                            there is love.     
There are things I should be doing, instead.
     But nothing that brings me so much joy
         a sunny disposition
         on a foggy Georgia night.
     When I hear you laugh, I know
         all will be right.
"Silly child, you feel so deeply
 head up, chin up, stop apologizing."
      Where are you now
      when I need you most?
           What you said,
                Still, I see your ghost.
Dancing around my head
Oh darling, won't you return soon?
   While, I'm sure you're off to bigger and better things
         don't you miss
              Atlanta at mid-night?
My sweet moonshine,
   love is blind
   love is cruel
        but nothing can stop the love
            I have felt for you.
I'm screaming,
the world is in a coma.
The heat sparked a fire,
    the fire burned down my soul.
       I could not mourn for it.
Silk flowers wilt slowly,
     covered in dust and fading fast.
  What at once was beautiful,
                  mustn’t last.
Soft blue light
    pours from the television set.
    A strange middle-aged man
    tries to sell me
    a revolutionary new product.
           Where the hell do they find these people?
Blank eyed
  and dreary
   is the woman at the Circle-K.
   But according to her t-shirt
       she is the "World's Greatest Mom".
Buying a pack of cigarettes
   fingering a keychain that reads:
   "It's five o' clock somewhere".
  She scratches off a lottery ticket
   with her yellow fingernails.
                   This is America.
I'm dying.
The stars are in a coma.
The heat sparked a fire,
    that burned my soul down.
         And I could not mourn for it.
If I cannot feel my heart,
   does it mean that it isn't there?
        Did you pack it in the brown suitcase
        when you left for outer space?
Headlights are pointing in my direction.
   I'm lying on the pavement.
       It's cooler down here.
   When metal and bone combine
       it makes such a lovely sound.
There are tire tracks
   in the ash,
       where my soul used to be.
   If I cannot feel my heart
      does it mean it can't feel me?
Gorgeous tragedy,
   it leaves little to the imagination.
     Emotions, so naked
     sobbing ever so quietly.
         Where was I
         when I needed me?

Reviews

[Rey]

your words are alive
they dance like ripples
on a calm and silent pond

from start to finish
your poetic verses
just grab and pull me
to the depths of your
beautiful imagination

enjoyed so much... aloha!

[D . R . Marais]

love the poem... eflt like you were talking to a lover, but maybe you were talking bout yourself... yourself being someone you lost.

If I cannot feel my heart
does it mean it can't feel me?

love those lines ALOT... whether i am right or not, i felt like you were talking about your lovers heart aka "your heart" and if you can't feel theirs, then they can't feel yours... whether thats how you mean't it to come out or not I FRICKEN LOVE IT haha...

I LOVE ATLANTA TOO! haha i live in roswell ga. sweet poem, you are a truly great writer