Spin the record of Nostalgia
Spin the record of nostalgia.
Sounding like skipping stones
one of these days you find yourself listening for a message camouflaged in its reveries
as if your were sitting in a yellow lit train car and memories
sting the window pain like rain drops then vanish in a streak of lightning.
This record is like being at sea stuck on a rock.
The tide is rolling in, you have to chose keep holding the green green lantern,
the light were hope has been spotted down in the darkness, or swim to the next rock...
spinning the record of nostalgia,
oh it spins so sweetly.
I am stuck swimming rock to rock,
sooner yet the tides roll in and we drown.
No man is an Island and no past can remain tropical
I must choose...
as the waves crash and the skipping ceases
the blue nocturne turns blood red as all hope dies
and you become an amnesiac... remembering only fragments before the darkness comes again and the tides roll in...
Comments about this poem (Spin the record of Nostalgia by jerome moore )
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