Post by RiaBaby on Jan 13, 2005 21:38:50 GMT
These streets begin where the cobbles
surface through tar like the heads
of children buried badly in their textures
What myth is this?
we ask, but
the children who play stickball and
Johnny-Jump-My-Pony round here just laugh.
No myth they tell us no myth,
just they say hey motherfucker aint
nothing but Leighton Street here,
aint nothing but all small houses
aint only but back porches where our mothers
wash there and they’re and their.
Where days grow hot
and on Leighton Street they listen to the radio
while pterodactyls flow between the TV aerials
on the roof and they say hey motherfucker they say
Hey motherfucker!
No myth they tell us no myth,
just they say hey motherfucker aint
nothing but Leighton Street round here
This they say is how you be silent in your silence
of days. Motherfucker.
When we turned our back on these upstate roads,
warehouses with faces of blank brick,
when you say ‘O, but I have reached the end
of all I know and still hear her grinding,
grinding in the night…
- Stephen King. This poem is absolutely awesome. The ending would have a WAY more powerful effect if you had actually read the Tommyknockers. That's where the poem is from....and when I read it just now I had to share it lol. Fucking awesome.
