02-04-2012, 02:55 PM
V. 2 last 2 lines of S.1 altered
Uneducate
I want to lose everything
and stumble downstairs for
my belt, my wallet,
my shoes.
Like a sailor, I am unaware
how many waves have passed
when suddenly
their backs have carried me to shore.
As the wind lifts feathers
and the air allows breath,
how could I forget these things,
molding dawns into Mayflowers
instead of seeing the sun rise?
I wish to unlearn
the little poetry at my side;
to forget her face
like an autograph in a yearbook;
I wish to believe
rain is water falling; otherwise,
belts turn into lightning
cocked like a gun in
the hand of my father;
nothing like
the grip that held me
up the halls of high school.
_______________________
Original
I want to lose everything
and stumble downstairs for
my belt, my shoes,
my house.
Like a sailor, I am unaware
how many waves have passed
when suddenly
their backs have carried me to shore.
As the wind lifts feathers
and the air allows breath,
how could I forget these things,
molding dawns into Mayflowers
instead of seeing the sun rise?
I wish to unlearn
the little poetry at my side;
to forget her face
like an autograph in a yearbook;
I wish to believe
rain is water falling; otherwise,
belts turn into lightning
cocked like a gun in
the hand of my father;
nothing like
the grip that held me
up the halls of high school.
Uneducate
I want to lose everything
and stumble downstairs for
my belt, my wallet,
my shoes.
Like a sailor, I am unaware
how many waves have passed
when suddenly
their backs have carried me to shore.
As the wind lifts feathers
and the air allows breath,
how could I forget these things,
molding dawns into Mayflowers
instead of seeing the sun rise?
I wish to unlearn
the little poetry at my side;
to forget her face
like an autograph in a yearbook;
I wish to believe
rain is water falling; otherwise,
belts turn into lightning
cocked like a gun in
the hand of my father;
nothing like
the grip that held me
up the halls of high school.
_______________________
Original
I want to lose everything
and stumble downstairs for
my belt, my shoes,
my house.
Like a sailor, I am unaware
how many waves have passed
when suddenly
their backs have carried me to shore.
As the wind lifts feathers
and the air allows breath,
how could I forget these things,
molding dawns into Mayflowers
instead of seeing the sun rise?
I wish to unlearn
the little poetry at my side;
to forget her face
like an autograph in a yearbook;
I wish to believe
rain is water falling; otherwise,
belts turn into lightning
cocked like a gun in
the hand of my father;
nothing like
the grip that held me
up the halls of high school.
Written only for you to consider.
