The little town, their path to heaven

The street into a little town
called little town
called ghosttown
called home by a few

Driven so hard into the notes
of a bad musician,
a really bad one -jazz,
that the earthquakes
always came just before coffeetime
and stopped just after bedtime

But there werent' many that would mind
because it's quiet empty, our little town
nothing but lonely souls, the lost souls' last path
before their march up to heaven
-heaven, just another big autobahn

They wouldn't talk about the weather
it was the same every day,

-the angels' grey teardrops
and a forgotten, lost and unhappy wind
because they both felt so sorry for the lonely people
they, without thinking too much,
tried to make them happier by doing what the they were good at,
weeping and blowing
as i said, without thinking too much
because thinking wasn't their best quality

Actually, the population wouldn't talk at all
because they were all so lost in life
they didn't dare seek for any part of it
and you must understand
when the clouds press upon you
and the dark crawling around
noone really feels for coffeetime
noone really felt for coffee
and noone, not a single one in town,
would've wanted to talk about it

Just let it be, they would've said
if they would've talked
but noone asked
so they let the wind sweep
and walked the road quietly
just like any other decent man or woman
even though this path led to heaven

Poetry by Angie-M
Read 670 times
Written on 2005-07-04 at 23:35

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My favorite lines
Of a bad musician
A really bad one-jazz
It sets a flat mood for me, and plays well the images that come to my head.

chasingtheday The PoetBay support member heart!
a really bad one - jazz ! i think without the naming of music would of been better here.

i think every town is that lonely town, a good piece.