John-Ward Leighton

IMAGES

Photo ©Copyright 2007 by John-Ward LeightonMy mind swims in a pool
of images both real and imagined.
The monitor looks back at me
looking back at me.
The fan hums in the background
white noise
below the music’s sound.
I have no idea what next
I will see
because the waking dream has taken me.
I slake my thirst with the water of ice
and scratch my back.
Something exciting would sure be nice
the words tumble onto the page
words of the coming oblivion
of sadness at times past
when I could have been a better man.
Is it an unreasonable wish
to be better than you are?
You’ve lived your life and done
the right thing
so far.
The wrecks in the street
doing death on the instalment plan
are testaments to that;
victims of their lousy
luck and fate
but in the end
we will all end up
being the late.
It’s not the if –
it’s the when and how.
Should I await the future
or should I go now?
I can resist suicides hex
because I’ve always wanted to know
what happens next.
This is no time for dirges
or dumb ass suicidal
self pitying urges.
Sit back, look at that old face
listen to the music,
and smile…
And write many, many more pages,
telling the stories,
dreaming the poems,
because the poem is the poet
and the poet is the poem,
taking the pictures,
describing
of all those wonderful, strange,
and beautifully terrifying
images.

Author’s Note: Written just north of the intersection at Heartbreak and Pain. (Hastings and Main)