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oskar hansen


The wait


The wave of sleep washed my up on the bleak shore of the awake
half remembered dreams vanished and left behind a blank canvas.
I was alone with the grey mass of viscosity framed by boredom.
and I had no whisky or cigarettes to hide behind in my elderliness
pleasures long gone….The futures didn´t reveal itself saw I´, not
a seer, the past was an endless series of failure and I could not
recall anything in my life that had given me pleasure of lasting
kind it had all been so erratic, laughter mingled with contempt
of a circus clown with a red nose.
looked out of the window and the sleeping town I noticed some
windows had light, and the 24 hour petrol station was open
they sold cigarette and booze too, put were out of happiness
and peace of mind packed in healthy disposable green bags.
Switched on the TV, Russia had occupied itself and people there
were jubilant; and they were looking for a plane that fell from
the sky a week ago, the world changes but slowly.

Submitted: Tuesday, April 01, 2014
Edited: Tuesday, April 01, 2014

Topic of this poem: poetry


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