Uncle Bob's Words

Words, poetry, stuff like that

Archive for the month “August, 2013”

Cycle city

It was the convergence of us

That created the line of our lives,

Which then, in due time, again diverged.

 

It was the mix of blue and pink

That fleshed out our togetherness.

Yet, colors fade when we look away.

 

The sound of me, the sound of you,

Produced the soundtrack we danced to.

Then the vibrations stilled as we stilled.

 

So, the line, the color, the sound

Created by love, ends by its lack.

Cycle city, man, cycle city.

 

A Tribute to Tincture of Merthiolate

The 9-year old boy said,

“Mercurochrome and Merthiolate,

One is okay, the other I hate.

One blood red, the other orangey red.

One is okay, but the other kills.germs.dead.

 

What is all this shit?

What is all this shit?

I’m in a former tobacco warehouse,

Now a crowded indoor flea.

I walk down an aisle

Between rows of tables

Littered with crap and kitsch –

All at reasonable prices.

The last gasp of the past.

Mono no aware.

The pathos of things.

For sale. Please.

 

Post Navigation