Life On The Street Poem by Michael J ORourke2

We work with an irreverent fear of the past
The shadowy melancholy of forgotten times
Irresponsible- immoral - yet so defiant
A sacred betrayal of forgotten rhymes
Like driftwood on a forlorn island
But the memory lingers like the osprey above his prey
Flashing down without a beat
Singular motivation...individual desperation
The pain is sudden- the knife of power is bloodied
The pastel sky turns stainless steel- then darkening grey
We can hear the drop of the moss from the heavy branched willow
The pain is pleasure to envision the memories of dance
And Monster balls and record deals and 'highly confident' letters
Never to be seen or known again
The agony of emotional loss pleads to the falling moss.
'Stay on the branch- do not fall.'
The promise of a joyful revelation
Knows nothing of a melancholy meditation.