Game Seven

Thrust your hands to the dark sky
And ride like the wind on the steel wings of sin that carry you
And never let it go
The twilight of the night, is shining in the stars.
Everyone knows when you love someone, you cling to it,
So you can honor the fallen soldier.
Your fallen hope.
Every last part of me that has breath
Makes you crumble or fold,
Yet it is that one in a million person,
That makes the whole serene offset our distinctions
And see life clearly through these rosy colored glasses.
It is the monotony
It's the beat that keeps your head bobbin' as you type the words
And it is the words that you type out, that I live out.
It is my one different stroke on my wall of games
But when it comes down to it, life is a like game seven.
You win, or lose.
It is the blacking out and waking up to gray
Tasting blood in your mouth,
To realize you have lost this battle.
And my eyeballs get blood clots from hearing you breathe
But the chattering of your teeth makes me remember how I use to be.
The sound rolling on my skin, feeds me the tingle effect
It is the tenderness of the words
That just keeps rolling off my tongue.
Can you define life?
Or just sit in the shadow of the sun, and wait on the bench for the answer?
You believe it or not.
This game is my only hope,
It is not an antidote to anything.
I lay down my life,
For I play for the history.
When I play, I don't play a game.
I can only speak of my hopes and misfortunes at this sacred place.
It is an understanding to this train wreck I call my life.
But when I finally get up from the struggle
I can see above the horizon.
I give you my destiny to run with,
And shout at my own consent, at top of my lungs on the beach.
I want your symphony, and for your beauty and grace to reflect on the music
My life is a game, if nothing more than a deep piece of music,
Than it is simply a masterpiece in the making.

Poem by J.A.D. © 2002