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Written by Buzzfloyd
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Wednesday, 17 August 2005 |
A poem by Buzzfloyd
For someone who left
You are the sound
Of the secondary beat
As blood flows back
And the circle is completed,
Without which the heart
Is purely a drum
Beating time.
You are the sleeping person’s wristwatch
In a shared room
Where an insomniac
Lies in the dark.
You are the dog-eared poster
On the ceiling above the bed
In a teenager’s room
Where mother never enters.
You are the one-night-stand
With the Lone Ranger
Before he rides out of town
With never a ‘thank you’ exchanged.
You are Hannibal’s plan,
And the mahout
Who guides by telepathy.
You are one of those giants
That spewed out rocks
For dinosaurs to rot in
And lie squashed in strata.
You are the bass-notes
Played on an acoustic guitar
In a thrash-metal band.
You are the bent neck
That prevents the strings
From ever being in tune
With each other.
You are a hurricane
That blew itself out
In Miami.
You are the acid
That escaped to the big toe
Of the gout sufferer.
You are the white top
Of the rolling thundercloud.
You are the perfection
Of a new lover.
You are electoral promises,
God bless America.
You are African political power.
You are the ragged wind
That cries in the night,
Caught on a barbed-wire fence.
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