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By Nicholas Leonard Holt
(Instagram: @nicholasleonardholt)
1.
With weary breath, my fingers stretch,
prepared to catch my wincing face.
This bachelor- he’s in distress-
as all this Love is put to waste.
The railroad veins along my arms-
will any fingers branch above their tracks?
Daydreams derailing in the rain-
I beg! Will any angel stop my fall?
Will any angel stop my fall?
Will heartbeats chug to what I want?
A girl who has Hollywood’s forgotten drawl.
Her figure’s waiting in the smog.
I beg! Will any angel stop my fall?
Will any angel stop my fall?
2.
I hear the violinic whine of life.
They put my thumb above the button next
to skip to songs about the 9 to 5.
A poet’s heard it more than once or twice.
It’s sent them down inside a mindful depth
to catch the violinic whine of life.
It’s humming on the road a child finds
before the bus kidnaps another guest,
before they’re taught about the 9 to 5.
And when I’m asked about a job I’d like,
my skeptic glare will not confess:
I hear the violinic whine of life.
Despite the rules and risks, I’d rather write.
Tiger in a zoo. Poet at an office desk,
encaged inside a tyrant 9 to 5.
The thing a founding father would protect;
my destiny, I’m meant to manifest.
They heard the violinic whine of life,
and yet so many play the 9 to 5.
About The Author:
Nicholas Leonard is a poet from Massachusetts. He’s the author of underground-esque poetry collections like Love, Lost Below The Lunar Lampposts, poetry narratives like Soliloquies In The Afterlove, and obscurely poetic novellas like Penelope Phosphene and You’re Not Invited To Lennena Bloo’s Wedding.
You can find more of his poetry on his instagram account @nicholasleonardbookedits
You can follow Nicholas Leonard Holt:
Instagram: @nicholasleonardholt
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