A Snapshot Of A Head In Smithereens

By carlosjackal

When a bottle becomes like a broken promise
My stoop ain't catching gold
Even an honest man needs a solid plan
Or at least that's what I'm told

Living the score of many a trash movie
A snapshot of a head in smithereens
A cigarette hanging from my mouth
As I ponder what life really means

Late night shifts doomed to silence
Walls that never stare back
Wishes made on radios
Hearts stationed out in drag

When a bottle becomes like a broken promise
My stoop ain't catching gold
Even an honest man needs a solid plan
Or at least that's what I'm told

Unauthorized Copying Is Prohibited. Ask the author first.
© 2017 Carl Denyer
Published on Sunday, November 13, 2016.     Filed under: "Poetry"
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Comments on "A Snapshot Of A Head In Smithereens"

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  • A former member wrote: Even an honest man needs a solid plan indeed, but the dishonest people with solid plans are troublesome. This is really good at capturing the moment, and I am definitely bookmarking this. Queen Reb:).

  • sIo On Sunday, December 4, 2016, sIo (894)By person wrote:

    This just tug at my heart and hit really hard. Like that sudden realization that a parent has died Or you're never going to be in the house you grew up in ever again. Especially line that said wishes made on radios. Very poignant and the loud to me for some reason. I really like this.

  • soul_versing On Monday, November 21, 2016, soul_versing (1176)By person wrote:

    You've left me stuck in deep thought just now. You've written a beautiful piece and I wish I had a mindset like yours, it'd be gold, I tell you. -Much love to you and your penūüíč Scholar

  • Devil lyn On Sunday, November 13, 2016, Devil lyn (392)By person wrote:

    There is a dry amusement to this as well as a darkened imagery of noir; I see embers coasting through the wind.

  • A former member wrote: interesting piece...leaves the reader to wonder what is going on in that head in smithereens...-HM

  • Lux On Sunday, November 13, 2016, Lux (318)By person wrote:

    See, some poems are straight forward, you know exactly what they are about. Some are mysterious and leave an air of something to be desired. This is neither nor none of whatever could be labeled "all above." I love not knowing what this is about. This felt like addicting thrill. Well done.

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