Bryon Harrison


Hour Glass - Poem by Bryon Harrison

'HOUR GLASS'

Hollywood's hour glass
A little too heavy, much too grasp.
Looks like my sand is running out;
from the top to the bottom, empty throughout.
Time seeps by as I pay my dues;
my essence is vapor, my soul's abused.
The world we live in has no luck;
all eyes on me, shit is fucked up.
Time to find a different route,
looks like my sand is running out.
How long exactly can I last?
Hollywood's broken hour glass.

I don't need oxygen so I can breathe,
rather hold my breath and grind my teeth.
Misunderstood and complicated,
on my flying carpet, feeling sedated.

Why is life always postponed,
a pretty good friend, T to the Bone.
Starts his car in a closed garage,
tormented Soul's entourage.

Thank God I found my curtain call;
it's when I picked up a basketball.
Started wearing number five,
when yours truly was pronounced alive.

An iron fist made me a man,
his only son, providing my plans.
Kryptonite came, couldn't say goodbye,
lost my guide, Superman died.


Danielle Rene had a son one day,
no dad around, I love you Tre.
I'll be glad to take his place;
to keep a smile on your face.

Beloved uncles could never sit still,
hard work and alcohol was their thrill.
Now they're both six feet under.
I see a trend here, makes me wonder.

On Broadway was a first for me,
When I was only 23.
How many years? Maybe three.
Before my first was taken from me.

Soon my heart became pure and thrifty,
UTD and hello kitty.
Gave up ball, ordained by god.
Trouble Follows, I'm a lighting rod.

But clouds were clear when she was there,
Perfect Skyes, no despair.
But now I simply hate to remember,
The 18th day of fucking December.

A dark cloud came and brought me Rayne,
And with this storm I have more pain.
Not long enough to embrace,
I need to feel the water on my face.

Getting sleepy, need some rest.
The day is over, no more tests.
Maybe now I can get some sleep,
before the sand becomes too deep.

I don't need oxygen so I can breathe,
rather hold my breath and grind my teeth.
Misunderstood and complicated,
on my flying carpet, feeling sedated.

So this is my hour glass
A little too heavy, too much too grasp.
Looks like my sand finally ran out;
from the top to the bottom, empty throughout.
Time seeped by as I paid my dues;
my essence is vapor, my soul's abused.
In this world there is no luck,
all eyes on me, all doors are shut.
Never found a different route,
Took 3 strikes, now I'm out.
34 years gone by too fast,
Hollywood's broken hour glass.


5-23-07

~HOLLWOOD~


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Poem Submitted: Wednesday, December 16, 2009



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