The mad rantings of Moisst's favorite Uncle.
Original poem by Uncle Kenny. Taken from Issue One 1992/93.
STRAINED
RESTING LIKE A GARGOYLE
SPECTRAL AND REFLECTIVE
GAZING OUT OVER EAST HARLEM
PAPER THIN AND TEETERING
IN THIS WIND
BROKEN STOOL IN LIMITED SPACE
THESE ARE THE WAKING HOURS
IN STRAINED PEACE
I HEAR THEM SCURRYING ACROSS
THEE ATTIC PLANKS
LOOKING LIKE JUNKIES IN RIOT GEAR
THEIR WAITING FOR THE WEIGHT
OF MY EYELIDS TO FALL
WITH THE DULL HUM OF PASSING YESTERDAY
I HEAR FOR ONLY A SECOND
A BLINK OF THE EYE, ONE
LAST BREATH, THEN
GONE WITHOUT A TRACE
SPECTRAL AND REFLECTIVE
GAZING OUT OVER EAST HARLEM
PAPER THIN AND TEETERING
IN THIS WIND
BROKEN STOOL IN LIMITED SPACE
THESE ARE THE WAKING HOURS
IN STRAINED PEACE
I HEAR THEM SCURRYING ACROSS
THEE ATTIC PLANKS
LOOKING LIKE JUNKIES IN RIOT GEAR
THEIR WAITING FOR THE WEIGHT
OF MY EYELIDS TO FALL
WITH THE DULL HUM OF PASSING YESTERDAY
I HEAR FOR ONLY A SECOND
A BLINK OF THE EYE, ONE
LAST BREATH, THEN
GONE WITHOUT A TRACE
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