Tuesday, April 25, 2006
Ahhh... poetry and sanity - good combination
Some of you know that my 18 year old son Ryan writes poetry (and is a musician). I may be biased, but I love his work. Here's one that you might enjoy too. As with all poetry, it is best if read out loud...
W is My Only Weapon
The words don’t come
From the display shelf
Today
I have to dig around
To the bottoms of bins
Just to produce a single
Letter
And 9 times out of 10
That letter is W
Which I have trouble
Putting to use
When under pressure by
Pretty-boy paedophiles
Who think their price-tag shirt and shoes
Sum up the worth of their
Deep asleep souls ignored
In the depths of a binge to the bottom of their bottle
And the bling bling material songs that they sing
All the while putting up walls
All around themselves and their things
So no one can reach in
With their hands or eyes
Because our doors are locked
And who knows what might happen
If we could actually see in
Even just a little bit
And to be blunt
I don’t give a shit if I appear irrational
So when you walk past me
I’ll throw handfuls of
W’s
Into your eyes
Until you realize
They’re just words after all…
And all I really want is to see you stumble and catch yourself
Turned away from where you were going
With a brand new question in your mind
And your previously hidden wings
Spread wide
So when you turn back again
All you have to do is decide
The right time
To plant yourself
To leap away and fly
- by Ryan
W is My Only Weapon
The words don’t come
From the display shelf
Today
I have to dig around
To the bottoms of bins
Just to produce a single
Letter
And 9 times out of 10
That letter is W
Which I have trouble
Putting to use
When under pressure by
Pretty-boy paedophiles
Who think their price-tag shirt and shoes
Sum up the worth of their
Deep asleep souls ignored
In the depths of a binge to the bottom of their bottle
And the bling bling material songs that they sing
All the while putting up walls
All around themselves and their things
So no one can reach in
With their hands or eyes
Because our doors are locked
And who knows what might happen
If we could actually see in
Even just a little bit
And to be blunt
I don’t give a shit if I appear irrational
So when you walk past me
I’ll throw handfuls of
W’s
Into your eyes
Until you realize
They’re just words after all…
And all I really want is to see you stumble and catch yourself
Turned away from where you were going
With a brand new question in your mind
And your previously hidden wings
Spread wide
So when you turn back again
All you have to do is decide
The right time
To plant yourself
To leap away and fly
- by Ryan
Comments:
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I like that. I like the image of digging about in "the bottoms of bins /Just to produce a single /Letter...." I like the "Deep asleep souls ignored," too.
Wow! I love it. I read it twice. But not out loud. I'm timid. Right now. It's early and quiet. I might read it out loud later. When I'm not so timid.
Thank you for sharing it.
Thank you for sharing it.
Just read it aloud to my daughter. My daughter wants to know - is the reason Ryan gets W's at the bottom of the bin because of George W? Worth? Waldorf? Walls? Words? Wings? While? Wide? Walk? Want? Double U?
Wonderful poem! Wake up and take wing!
Wonderful poem! Wake up and take wing!
# posted by 
: 10:14 pm
: 10:14 pm
Arulba (and daughter) - good question! I'll ask him because I don't know why "W". I don't think it's Bush as he's not so political in his poetry.
Its definitely one to read out loud, that's for me and a tune and a beat to a carefree w not.
Best wishes
Best wishes
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