I stopped playing when I was ten;
A part of me was taken then.
I sold the bike when I grew soft;
Another bit of me was lost.
I quit smoking when my lungs grew tired;
A little more of me expired.
I gave up lust when I grew old;
Another part of me was sold.
I forsook drink when the doctor said;
One more piece of me had fled.
When anger goes, expelled by pain,
Then I'll be like a child again.
Come the day that I don't wake
There'll be nothing left for death to take
So if there's a God, pray God he's nice,
And leaves a little bit of vice.
(Or if the Devil takes my soul,
Pray he leaves me Rock and Roll.)
BT
(Don't worry - I haven't even achieved line one yet)
Friday, 11 September 2009
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Afraid to say I'm 50% there.
ReplyDeleteNice work, by the way.
the paint has dried, sugar! ;~D xoxoxo
ReplyDeleteI'm the biggest kid on our street (I have more Lego than both my kids put together) and am damn proud of it.
ReplyDeleteGood poem. That one's a keeper.
How poignant but brilliant!
ReplyDeleteGlad it's a morose mood rather than a reality though and hope you're feeling more cheerful again BT.
An excellent little wind-up toy rsilroad of a poem! A ticking gem that bursts into a magicians bouquet......
ReplyDeleteAloha
Comfort Spiral
Excellent; as the lady says this really chugs - shades of Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night, but in clockwork form.
ReplyDeleteAh BT, I've been there, I am there, and I will be there!
ReplyDeleteThanks for your words of wisdom btw
x
Stopped . . . playing?
ReplyDeleteNah, can't say I've ever considered that.
I'll class this poem under surreal!
Rol - Ah, but your wicked with the pen.
ReplyDeleteSavvy - I'm envious; I bet it looks fantastic.
Steve - Being a big kid is the sign of a man who's comfortable with himself - and a big heart.
Laura - Thank you. It was probably something I ate...or drank.
Cloudia - You still have the bike!
Gadjo - You've rumbled me. Highly derivative. Those Dylan lines did come to mind. Also St Augustine, "Lord, Make me chaste, but not yet." And Dannie Abse's 'The Trial' had been going round in my head, which explains the clockwork train thing:
I wanted to be myself, no more,
So I screwed off the face that I always wore.
I told you, your honour, I threw it away
It was only made of skin-coloured clay.
Helen - I wouldn't worry; you're re-embarking on a new creative trip.
Rol - I meant 'you're'. (What is it with typing the sound in one's head, not the meaning in one's mind?)
ReplyDeleteJules - Good for you. It's all over to Steve's then?
ReplyDeleteI haven't started half these things yet. Now I feel even worse, knowing that my life is over before it's begun.
ReplyDeleteGoodness, I've had it and I didn't even know what it was!
ReplyDeleteGood poem - I bet you could get that published somewhere
ReplyDeleteYou're right - stick with the devil - better music!
ReplyDeleteGreat poem! Rather Dorothy Parker-ish and I like her very much. I shall now go away and continue decaying slowly through out the day!
ReplyDeleteMadame DeF - Not at all; I'm sure your vices are things most of us would count as virtues.
ReplyDeleteFly - That sounds like one definition of contentment.
Fancy - How nice of you. (Even if that were true though I'd never try, because by tomorrow I shall hate it!)
Lulu - Yes. And as Samuel Butler (I think) said, 'It's not fair; God has written all the books).
Amanda - I've never looked into her work, but now I want to; thank you for that.
That is so good,and so sad. I am printing a copy to put on the kitchen cupboards to explain to the kids why I am going to carry on being an embarrassment to them.
ReplyDelete