John-Ward Leighton

INTO THE ABYSS OF FOREVER

The music trickles just outside
the ringing in my ears
and I wonder if putting on
my headphones will
quell the infernal buzz
there that seems to work
although the “new” jazz
doesn’t really please me.

The piece cascades
in a round with two trumpets
and I’m tempted
to turn the sound track
to another station
endless electronica yanking my brain
to some new undiscovered terrine
a hypnotic hum of organ, bass and drum.

the border of Kingdom come
a discovery of a first sound
if I was dumb and full of fear
surprised by a sound bugling in my ear
something two twenty eight in the morn
and another day and night almost gone
no cream for my coffee what a waste
the water with a mid winter chlorine taste.

still now sleep
writing and waiting for the words
to stun me into the deep of dreams
the waking ones won’t do it seems
hand on chin I view the screen and wryly grin
misspelling words along the way
with only the spell checker
to save the day.

eight-line verses
just in time for wordy reverses
my muse sings harmony
and doesn’t seem to notice me
I think that it will be just fine
in the jumble of thoughts in my mind
because somewhere in my head
there is a last line.

there is a last line
the one just before sleep or death
and only the hope of another wake
and a loving partner to scratch that itch
will keep this aging vehicle out of the ditch
and that endless highway falls away
in eight line verse oh so cleaver
into the abyss of forever.