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Mr. Floyd
by Alison McKenzieSometimes I feel
Like a talentless Pink Floyd
Piece of work
Minor keys
But they dont progress
In any predicatable order
Sad, dark words
Except the underlying meaning of mine
Are worn out
On my sleeve
I beg passing strangers to read them
Hoping that someone will take them home
Play them under the influence
Of some heart-altering substance
And love me
Despite what Ive just said
05/11/2004 Posted on 05/11/2004
Copyright © 2024 Alison McKenzie
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Rula Shin on 05/14/04 at 03:31 PM Oh yes! One of my all time favorite bands as well! A great poem that reveals the pain it takes to piece together the art that is in front of us, yet scattered. Great read :-) |
| Posted by Ashok Sharda on 05/14/04 at 05:17 PM Well, I am not aware of the band you have mentioned herein but I can see hopes in hopelessness. And somehow I feel good about it despite the sadness this piece seems to be reflecting. |
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