Watching.
Glancing occasionally at the
Tall, wiry figure standing alone
Arms folded, the disgusted look
On his face reads like a journal
Of weathered, yellowed pages,
Telling a story of beats,drama,
Heartbreak,friends,regret,enemies,
Respect.
Suddenly.
The bass drops, the stoic figure
Animates and everything seems new again
For a moment, his moves are stiff,
Calculated, creaking.
Trying to shake months of rust
Months of standing motionless
Questioning his own presence at these events
Wondering what all his effort was for.
Walk away.
To another place, filled to the brim
With people sitting, slack jawed,
Eyes glazed.. wondering why..
Why these "rebels" pay money to do nothing
Or maybe they're running?
Problems? Issues? Self loathing? Losing
Loved ones? Maybe just losing?
Hours later.
The once motionless figure from before
Is still in action.
His motions, now smooth, liquid
Occasionally popping, locking, then
Rolling with precision again.
His frown has been replaced
With an easy smile, his silence..
Replaced with flowing conversation.
For some reason..
This person looks so familiar
Someone I've seen many times before.
is perfectly spiked hair, now matted with sweat
His nice, comfy sweater, discarded on the ledge
I wish I could remember his name.
I wish I could tell him how happy I am for him.
But I turned for one moment, and he was gone
Hopefully someday I'll see him again.
As I finish writing this I have
One thing left to say to those of you
You have had the chance to party with me.
If you have the ability to read between the lines
You should be smiling..
Because I know I am.
dave
Glancing occasionally at the
Tall, wiry figure standing alone
Arms folded, the disgusted look
On his face reads like a journal
Of weathered, yellowed pages,
Telling a story of beats,drama,
Heartbreak,friends,regret,enemies,
Respect.
Suddenly.
The bass drops, the stoic figure
Animates and everything seems new again
For a moment, his moves are stiff,
Calculated, creaking.
Trying to shake months of rust
Months of standing motionless
Questioning his own presence at these events
Wondering what all his effort was for.
Walk away.
To another place, filled to the brim
With people sitting, slack jawed,
Eyes glazed.. wondering why..
Why these "rebels" pay money to do nothing
Or maybe they're running?
Problems? Issues? Self loathing? Losing
Loved ones? Maybe just losing?
Hours later.
The once motionless figure from before
Is still in action.
His motions, now smooth, liquid
Occasionally popping, locking, then
Rolling with precision again.
His frown has been replaced
With an easy smile, his silence..
Replaced with flowing conversation.
For some reason..
This person looks so familiar
Someone I've seen many times before.
is perfectly spiked hair, now matted with sweat
His nice, comfy sweater, discarded on the ledge
I wish I could remember his name.
I wish I could tell him how happy I am for him.
But I turned for one moment, and he was gone
Hopefully someday I'll see him again.
As I finish writing this I have
One thing left to say to those of you
You have had the chance to party with me.
If you have the ability to read between the lines
You should be smiling..
Because I know I am.
dave
