Poems from the bad part of town

Random moments from my life, I don't know if I would classify this as poetry.

[poemsfromthebadpartoftown]

I just want you to be real.

To breathe life into my heretic soul.

To know that you have a hand in everything,

A hand that will guide us towards a purpose.

Bend me into an instrument of your will.

Send me anywhere, to do anything.

I would go to the end of the earth for you.

Raise men up or put them in the ground for you.

I would follow you blindly,

Because you gave me my eyes.

But I know you are just a construct,

Of my monkey brain, seeking a hierarchy.

But oh how I wish you were real.

The world was magical when I believed in you.

[poemsfromthebadpartoftown]

Suddenly I am rich,

In the most immaterial treasure,

Known to mankind.

[poemsfromthebadpartoftown]

Suddenly,

As fast as you appeared,

There was no space for any others.

[poemsfromthebadpartoftown]

So many friends,

Just gone,

Into the ground.

Turned into memories.

To keep me up at night.

[poemsfromthebadpartoftown]

Back now,

To the cold, wind and rain.

To see all the old faces,

The friends who haven't done much.

Then back to the warmth of my new home.

But most importantly,

Back to the warmth of you.

Even if it's just a short time of both.

[poemsfromthebadpartoftown]

The transition was strange to me.

I had joined the biggest gang around.

Givin an identification number,

A place to sleep and three meals a day.

A bank account and nothing to spend money on.

And all I had to do,

Was to carry a rifle,

With a number of its own.

[poemsfromthebadpartoftown]

My friends,

They think of themselves as lions.

However, this is far-fetched.

They truly resemble moths.

Bumbling around in the dark,

Drawn to prison like a flame.

[poemsfromthebadpartoftown]

Of all the languages that you speak,

The one that you speak to my heart,

Is the one that impresses me the most.

[poemsfromthebadpartoftown]

Warm days.

Cold days.

Sunny days.

Cloudy days.

Good days.

Bad days.

Happy days.

Sad days.

But always,

Wanting more days.

[poemsfromthebadpartoftown]

I'll ask you a question,

Then you'll talk,

And talk and talk,

And talk some more.

I'll listen to it all intently,

Just to ask another question.

Because your thoughts,

Expressed in words,

Are music to my ears.

[poemsfromthebadpartoftown]

You are my ideal.

Strong willed and beautiful.

But so far away.

[poemsfromthebadpartoftown]

Where are you from?

So that I can go there;

and still not find anyone like you.

[poemsfromthebadpartoftown]

BANG, and the door is off its hinges.

We rise and run as it sails to the floor.

The long arm of the law is here now.

But it's no match for our legs.

Should have brought an angry dog,

Not five fat pigs.

Better luck next time.

[poemsfromthebadpartoftown]

No fanfare here,

No movie speech.

Just me and you,

Alone in the dark.

And a rock in a sock.

[poemsfromthebadpartoftown]

Pick yourself up.

Rise,

And rise;

And rise again.

[poemsfromthebadpartoftown]

Last night I dreamt that your mother called,

She said you would be realised from prison soon.

We cried tears of joy, that we could see you again.

Listen to your stupid jokes,

Warm our hearts at the sight of your love for your son.

And then I woke up, I realised that this will never come to pass.

That you are as far away from us as can be,

And that now you only exist in our dreams.

[poemsfromthebadpartoftown]

It is better to have done these things,

To be burdened by the sureness of their memories.

To not live with the insecurities that come with the question of:

"When the time comes, can I do what needs to be done?"