the Rusty Caboose

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  • Confusion

    the Rusty Caboose

    First things first….I can’t tell if I’m better or I’m worse
    I’m a raging cynic and a bright-eyed optimist all wrapped into one
    I’m a lazy critic and an out-right activist with nothing new beneath the sun
    I’m a nobody and I’m everyone….yeah, I’m one in a million
    I missed the bus, but I’m right on time…..here I am, I’ve come undone
    I’m an ambidextrous thinker, I’m a high plains drifter…I’m every which way but loose
    I’m a lack of control freak…..Call me the silver bullet with a rusty caboose
    I’m a hungry man whose full of excuses…Luckily, I ain't been left to my own devices
    Once or twice is enough for me, Seems my vices creep in unsuspectingly
    Here I am-Look at me now- I’ve come undone…
    I’m a wreck on wheels, I’ve forgotten how to feel
    But I can seal the deal with mass appeal
    You were born to be free…well I was born to run…and I run and run…and run and run
    The clouds roll by….a little darker, a little colder
    A little brighter, a little bolder…….Lightning flashes, I run to a cave
    Sometimes I wonder if there’s really anyone left to save
    I once saw my face on the surface of the water….and I can’t tell if that’s made things easier or harder……
    Its days like these that make me wonder if I should have stayed dead….
    But I make it a point to never should on myself….
    Getting all worked up over stuff that doesn’t really matter
    I listen for my hearts calling, but all I hear is a ringing and that’s no fun….it just makes me sadder
    I’m a disaster made of plaster, just waiting for the rain
    In and of myself I’ve come undone
    I broke the chain, I bit the bullet from a misfired gun with much disdain
    I’m out to lunch, I’m a frozen dinner
    This and that….somethin’ or other
    I’m your worst enemy and your very best friend……look at me man I’ve come undone…..
    If you could….just wake me up when we get to the end.

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    tidekeeper commented on the Rusty Caboose

    12-05-2009

    I really like this one. I understand what you mean.

    Poetry is what gets lost in translation.

    Robert Frost (1875-1963) American Poet.

    Doulos’s Poems (19)

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    For Jesse 1
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