Poetry

Old Faces

Kid A

Rocks my baby

back

through psychedelic shades

of memory ridden contemplation,

old faces haunt me

shadowy alley-ways run deep

down behind my jaw line

walk themselves home

as I recollect old beats

old faces,

old places which I never

really left-

before my time

yanked from the

only place I ever really

felt myself in,

pulled apart and inside out

long fall and then

nothingness and bright

blinding lights

so many flashing lights.

Old faces

led me home

kept me warm,

but haunt me now

cruel irony

intervening years have

stretched me so

far away,

feelings gently smoulder

on and flicker with

low heat but

those old faces-

(Truth)

may as well

be dead.

End.

Stamping out those embers

now-

crushing tears at

the root

to pure hard diamond,

take the money

and run.

I’m spiralling out

of this memory passage-way

now remembering how

to scream and

how to run-

so many pathways loom,

old faces stare

and salty tears pattern

my skin

like

white lace.

One thought on “Old Faces

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