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Array ( [sid] => 141176 [catid] => 1 [aid] => mick [title] => An End Point [time] => 2008-03-25 18:43:26 [hometext] => I may never feel this inspired again.......... except when this music fills the space around me. [bodytext] => This is neither the time nor the place to discuss this,
But I can’t help but lie awake and throw on that same record again.

What a romantic image in my head,
To walk away into the sunset
And never come back except by accident.

Not all who wander are lost,
But some lost wanderers choose to be that way.
I have no idea where I am,
Who the ___ am I
And do I really care about this ____?

When silence finally breaks,
It’ll still be in my head,
So I might as well listen to it.

Sheer brilliance, it is.
True anarchism might break through, tonight.
Dada, even.
Or maybe just deep contemplation.

The cold streets call my name,
If I won’t sleep, I might as well be going somewhere.
But if I don’t know where,
What will receive me?

The beginning and end never existed.
I can’t tell you what’s going on
Because I don’t really know, myself.
All I know is the music feeds
An inexplicably insatiable appetite.
[comments] => 3 [counter] => 207 [topic] => 61 [informant] => a7x36 [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => selfstruggles )

An End Point

Contributed by a7x36 on Tuesday, 25th March 2008 @ 06:43:26 PM in AEST
Topic: selfstruggles

This is neither the time nor the place to discuss this,
But I can’t help but lie awake and throw on that same record again.

What a romantic image in my head,
To walk away into the sunset
And never come back except by accident.

Not all who wander are lost,
But some lost wanderers choose to be that way.
I have no idea where I am,
Who the ___ am I
And do I really care about this ____?

When silence finally breaks,
It’ll still be in my head,
So I might as well listen to it.

Sheer brilliance, it is.
True anarchism might break through, tonight.
Dada, even.
Or maybe just deep contemplation.

The cold streets call my name,
If I won’t sleep, I might as well be going somewhere.
But if I don’t know where,
What will receive me?

The beginning and end never existed.
I can’t tell you what’s going on
Because I don’t really know, myself.
All I know is the music feeds
An inexplicably insatiable appetite.

Copyright Â© a7x36 ... [ 2008-03-25 18:43:26]
(Date/Time posted on site)

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Re: An End Point (User Rating: 1 )
by Former_Member on Tuesday, 25th March 2008 @ 06:55:04 PM AEST
(User Info | Send a Message)

I liked it. It reminded me of my insomnia.

Re: An End Point (User Rating: 1 )
by Marrs on Tuesday, 25th March 2008 @ 07:03:55 PM AEST
(User Info | Send a Message)

Music does feed the head sometimes

Re: An End Point (User Rating: 1 )
by althea_kendry on Wednesday, 26th March 2008 @ 02:36:35 AM AEST
(User Info | Send a Message)

wow i reli like this poem :) great job

it reminds me of how i spend my nites cuz i never sleep so i listen to music while walkin aimlessly around my neighborhood :) this poem sounds reli familiar to me which is nice :)

keep writin plz :)

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