NOT MY OWN

Astral-Travel

NOT MY OWN

SO MANY MEMORIES TRIPPING LIKE LIQUID

ACROSS THE VACANT LOT OF MY MIND,

DELICIOUS AS PASTRIES IN A BAKER’S STORE,

THEY ARE NOT MY OWN,

BUT THEY SMELL LIKE TEENAGE REBELLION,

AND I WOULD LIKE TO CLAIM THEM

FROM THE LOST AND FOUND.

 

THEY ARE OF LIFETIMES  AGO,

LONG THOUGHT LOST IN THE ANNALS OF HISTORY,

LIKE THE DEEDS OF MY FOREFATHERS,

WITH THEIR QUAINT TASTE FOR GOLD,

AND WARRIOR WAYS VAINGLORIOUS…

SLOGANS SUCH AS OFFA, FRIEND OF CHARLEMAGNE,

KING OF KINGS.

 

AND I WANT TO BELIEVE THAT THESE ARE ALL MINE,

THE SWATHE OF LYRICS FROM DAYS OF YORE…

A TWINE BINDING ME BACK TO PAST GLORIES,

PAST CONQUESTS AND DEFEATS…

ANYTHING WHICH STOPS THE CONSTANT

DRIP DRIP OF REAL MEMORIES,

OF THE YOU AND ME, THE ONLY ONES.

 

DALE ‘M’

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