Litkicks Message Board Archive

The Smiles In Your Fingertips

Posted to Action Poetry

when im older
will i regret my 15 year old self?
will i wish things were different?
will i wish that i was more popular,
will i wish i had acted differently,
been nicer to parents or peers,
not been so nice?
i wonder here 12:30 in the dark
only one of tons of things rushing
thru my
dave influenced mind
the bends birthday card
dont leave me high and dry
what happened to my real friends?
you do it to yourself
surprise surprise you pay for what you get.
i wonder how my road will twist
we work ourselves fingers to the bone
suck the marrow drain our souls
for what?
pay our dues and our debts pay your respects
for what?
( everybody tells you you pay for what you get...
everybody asks me how shes doing
has she really lost her mind?)
i hear it telling me, attacking me
on these headphones
bouncing off my skin like some 3D image
life is a 3D image!
why do we look at computer generated crap
in wonder
and ignore whats around us?
can we walk into smoky jazz clubs
and see the notes suspended in midair
hazy through smoke and coffee?
do they bounce off our eardrums
and disappear into infinity
adding to the collective realm of notes
and thoughts and loves and woes
(never visited, never any visitors)
that will one day burst and destroy the world?
or do we lie in bed
and, as sleep overtakes us
become engulfed in our dreams
by the things weve ignored
by the notes we've let pass without reaching out
the accusations we've let stand
the conflicts we create out of thin air
the tangled webs we weave
does it all creep out from underneath our beds
unscrew the doors themselves from their jambs!
will this be me?
i wouldnt even call this poetry
oh where is your dream guiding you now pixie
to realms of bath and no and france?
us and new york and comfortable beds and bob?
the great beyond???

i wish every nite could be like last
radical dreams that leave me with profound sadness
oh the look in your eyes! if they were yours
ill never forget it!! or at least
the aura behind it
of a given up state
oh woe...
blank face illuminated by television
slashed lips
nothing to live for but too naive to die
what does it mean?
i thought of it in guitar class as sort of
a variable
(we exist in variables)
what could happen
(we exist in variables)
im not gonna kill you but i mean
one of the tons, tons, tons of things you could become
i know!! its depressing but its one in a million
anyone can become anything
the girl next to me might as well have been martha stewart
it could be anyone
its all i could think of
dont be sad love
or worried
dont worry....
be happy...
for theres an angel above you
watching over you
and when i want to check up on my love
all i do is look in the sky
and the angel is there
giving me vague ideas
little wisps i can pick out of the clouds
ah improvisation!!
i swear if i dont make jazz band
ill run up there spewing out poetry

i do it for you, ah honey baby cant you tell?

and help me to end the day
and if you dont mind
we'll break a bottle of wine
stick around
and maybe we'll put one down

cause i wanna find what's behind those eyes...

let her beautiful dreams
rise up from her beautiful form
like smoke trails rising up, up
find their way past her cieling, dissipate through her roof.

and let them spread out amongst the city
amongst the neighborhood, 7-11 gas station
boston market everywhere, let them be carried by the air
lord, let them thread their way through.

and let the first to rise step outside his door,
yawn, stretch, and smell the beautiful aroma
of the pancakes his mother used to make
a long long time ago.

let the old couple taking a walk
tighten their arm grip, look at eachother and smile
for their cheap hotel jazz honeymoon waltz
is once again in their hearts.

let the baker open his shop early
roll up the blinds with a smile on his face
for it seems he can hear, far off there
the piano that echoed in his living room so long ago.

and let the people of the morning,
the ones who really love you,
stop in awe at a new day sky
filled with the beautiful dreams of the world

and let the old woman turn to her husband
and with a 'how is all that in one girl's head?'
let them share their one millionth kiss
under the bright sky of sunlight.

oh your paintbrush paints with
the colors of humanity holly!!
always remember
that your voice, your heart, your dream is a rainbow
with all the colors of life mixed perfectly
because your mixture of color
happens to be the most beautiful of them all!!
the smiles in your fingertips
absolutely melt my heart,
and they contain multitudes.

goodnight! let your dreams, no matter how little of them you recall,
calm the waters of the world.

i love you

love, ben

I wrote this a month ago one late night; maybe it will inspire somebody.