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Knockin on Heavens door



Knockin on Heavens door
By Kewayne_Wadley on 03/31/2014
Viewed: 151
Reviews: 2
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Time moves slowly on that ol dusty vinal that goes round and round,
The needle almost traces it's pain, Vocalizing the scratches that come out so beautifully,
Again and again,
The angels themselfs ignore my cries, the pleading, temptation,
Just to know what its life to sore as just,
The floor boards creek just the same,
The sights are to blurry for my taste, The lights cradle each other,
Giving way to new colors, toxic to blues health,
As it too has walked out the door,
Only red and yellows give birth to the new hue that's painted tonight's sky,
Shouts could be heard top to bottom, lost in emotion as the daily stresses have lost way in
touch,
Dresses shift and adjust, fingers snap and speak a language of their own,
All before dawn could rest it's head good on that cloud like pillow,
High end corners, soft end padding,
The softest laments could motion the loudest cry unheard in ones eyes,
Listen to that sultry soul voice would you listen,
Ivory queen, Oh Ivory Queen, sing that note as low as you can,
Take your breaths as you symbolize life's strife,
take your breaths as I swore last night happened tonight,
Don't hide your eyes from the light, I swore I dream't about you last night,
This very second, This very time, to be damned I still couldn't see your face,
The way your voice has crept into my life, in to my every thought,
I never thought to be poisoned with such beauty,
The light flickers and bounces off her hair,
The corners whispered as pool cues struck their accompanied balls, knocking against each other,
AS low shit's and high damns could be heard,
beside that one table that's always out of order over by that dim-lit bathroom sign,
A sea of voices could be heard outside amongst the street, at times if you listened hard enough,
they made their own song in a silly sort of way,
Like the silly games eyes can play, the way they speak, the way they tease then walk away the moment after,
Moan black piano, Moan,
I can hear your cry for affection from way over here, The tender touch you long to feel,
the warmth of ones fingers against your cold hard plastic, Ebony and Ivory as love sees no color,
Waiting for time to stand still, as your emotion roam into the arms of another,
This time let the seconds be precious as I know you can wait no longer,
To meet the fingers that actually love & caress you the way you deserve,
Just as those tender lips that caress the tip of that Alto-sax's opening,
The fingers that hold on to it as if it was the last,
Played with such passion as the sax itself knows no bounds,
Lip singing each breath with its cry for more,
Almost challenging the angels in heaven to blow their horns, thus singaling for oblivion,
but a last, as it's already felt,
As the climax between lips have already met,

? By Kewayne_Wadley On 3/31/2014 2:27:52 PM
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