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With A Knitted brow.... I Digress.-4 poems

Updated on March 9, 2010

With A Knitted Brow I Digress.

In the darning

of the sock,
lies the damning

of the foot,
begging to

burst free,

It claws toe holes

in the woven bindings,
longing for the

feel of soft grass,
on the sole

of the wanderer.

Sealed in

tight leathers,
strapped by laces

knotted in bows,
sweating in the

sleeping bags
where toes

are smothered,
it is a prison

of podiatry.

Darn not

the socks,
damn the customs

that leave us
unable to be

barefoot and carefree.







Gigs and Ghanga.

I can barely

remember Hotel Haze,
in a suite decorated

with 5 rockers,
lost in the blues

of a song and a bong,
sprawled like

loose jointed puppets,
on cushions and shag,
paying unplugged riffs
to fill the rifts
in a show

the next night.

We were young

and full of spunk,
the world was our

blue oyster cult,
and we suckled the meat.
Groupies filled

the emptiness
with emptiness filled.

Then the scent

of sweat, ozone,
and black velvet shots
greeted us back stage,
after dreamless

nights of revelry.

Soon enough

the crowd
devoured our

burning Bics

to call us back,
for an encore,

one last morsel of music,
to carry them off

to their real worlds,
and bid us return

to the Hotel's haze.










Saturation Point.(haiku)

Umbrella shelter,
sucked into a tulip shape,
as I am deluged.-----






The Wonder Of It 's Embrace.

Life is....
and will continue to be
till it is no more,
truly worth cherishing.






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    • Micky Dee profile image

      Micky Dee 7 years ago

      Darn my socks. I hate the holes in the toes. I don't mind the holes in the heels. Do I seem calloused?

      I believe you lived if you gigged!