Once upon a rabbit in the sink
I'm sitting by my window-pane,
the street caught in a fluorescent glow
As water drifts towards the drain,
into the gutter far below
It's dark outside I see
There is no light by which to see,
by which to write this cold soliloquy
Like a monster that is stirring,
slowly now you hear the whirring
Of a car down in the street
The pat-pat-pat of running feet
– wonder whom she has to meet?
Whether out there, there is someone she will greet?
And the rabbits in the sink
Have started counting now, or at least so I think
"Fourty-one, fourty-two, fourty-three, fourty-four"
But no, there is nothing left to see anymore
maybe I should just go have another sip of whisky, for the lifting
Of the sorrow
– that the pain may wait until tomorrow
Now the mood is slowly shifting
Hear the music slowly drifting
Drifting through my window-pane
A thousand dreams were shot in vain
Or so it seems
Sometimes in the midnight hour
When the monster will devour
I still recall her soothing screams
Or maybe I don't
maybe it's simply because my mind decays
it's hard to tell these days
Once upon a time
We all could hear that faintest chime
That distant ring of new ideas
That fairest music to the ears
I'm just a cat like any other my brother
Sitting in my window-pane
Wondering if there is really nothing left to gain
Nothing but the pain I mean
That's caught in this refrain
In this enchanted old machine
That seems to capture my ideas, and keep them stored for future...
No, there is no point in thinking
Along those lines – this ship is sinking
The only thing that shines
Is the halo of the flickering lamp far below
That still emits a ghastly glow
Maybe the rabbits in the sink have just forgotten what they know
Or maybe they haven't,
maybe they still remember their ways
it's hard to tell these days
Once upon a rabbit in the sink
There was a writer who was so drunk he couldn't think
Left in solitude with a feeling of regret
I light another cigarette
An intoxicant so that I might forget
Those horrid screams, still lingering in silhouette
But no, her skin so soft, so smooth
The cigarette it cannot soothe
That ancient fear
That something horrid now draws near
"once upon a time" I think
No – I'll have another drink
From the bottle standing on the old piano
Like me, it has forgotten how to spin that enchanting tune
That once did grow
– once upon a summer-night in June
And the rabbits in the sink?
They are still there, I think
Counting forty-two, whilst I sit down at a stool in an old decaying bar,
And have myself another drink
Or maybe I won't, maybe that's why my mind feels like it's ablaze
Or maybe not
It's hard to tell these days
Poetry by Lalando
Read 688 times
Written on 2010-03-09 at 00:49
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text
