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Beneath The Tracks
by Robert Cameron HazeltonIve lived down here forever it seems
on Thunderbird and nickel dreams,
I plunged headlong into the crack
from which there is no coming back,
accustomed to quite harsh extremes.
The rumble of an evening train
alerts me that its time again
to face the horde which claims it cares
but only offers sickened stares
my steady diet of disdain.
One day perhaps the fates will grin,
some country club will vote me in;
until then Ill keep keepin on
and hope someone can look beyond
these mottled streaks upon my skin. 06/02/2006 Posted on 06/03/2006
Copyright © 2025 Robert Cameron Hazelton
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by JD Clay on 06/07/06 at 12:42 AM I read this and hear a lap-steel, bass and drum backing you up. This is good stuff, pal. Prefect rhythm, perfect pitch with POTD written all over it.
pe4ce...
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| Posted by Kristina Woodhill on 06/07/06 at 01:30 AM Well written. There's blues in these words, for sure. |
| Posted by Chris Sorrenti on 06/08/06 at 12:02 PM On first read I got a hobo's perspective from this, but upon closer inspection, it goes much deeper, touching on how others sadly form impressions simply from another's appearance, without getting to know the soul. Thought provoking piece; congrats on hitting the Top 10. |
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