Broken Rails

The vagrant’s life I host.

Vagrant's life

 

The lush sun seeped through the small crevice on the wall
You could smell the burnt coal, billowing through her iron stacks
I spent the better part of my life not feeling tall,
My demeaning soul, left countless times on these tracks.

My heart beats no more, rather it apes in echoes
Naked as the word of emptiness, I define it.
The shrieking halts, stillness swathes, and silence bestows—
That sullen noise… it hammers me… shakes me to bits.

I amble through boxcars, glazed over like a doughnut,
Sifting through trash, like it was another man’s treasure
My empty soul is poisoned and thus it corrupts,
Causing angst and inly, a thousand throes for pleasure

Like rotten little after notes, the remnants addle
I struggle, but then I find a symbol to impute.
A stone vestige stowed from a dismantled chapel
The pious verve brought me closer to his repute.

 

I channel it, resound my soul to its emptiness
Hoping to fill my own emptiness with its knowledge
But if I am riled by every rub that I address,
Then how do I think my reflection will be polished?

Another cold feeling prickles my skin, I shiver,
Rummaging for any form of cloth to cover me.
A fool I’ve been, postponing life’s rapture, so I dither,
Trying hard to find the shoulder of somebody.

I’ve kept a few of friends, not by the standards held by most
Mostly short-lived customers, a few were friendly ghosts.
I scavenged for crumbs, beholden for some day-old toast,
Accepting what I am, and the vagrant’s life I host.

I wanted to write down how I felt on paper,
But somehow I tried, and the paper stayed empty.
I’ve closed so many doors looking for a savior
I‘d found that the burden it presents was too hefty.

My eyes were cold and gray, hued by a tinge of red
Within me were the means of possibility
But even my eyes do not know which road to tread
Nor tinge to side with, so I lie in tranquility.

One day I will merge into that dazzling darkness
Vanish into it, my spirit into its essence.
My cares have passed, and a haggled bum is my pretense,
I am a soul, lost to the great void of existence.

Paul Neglia

Proud father of 3. Part time writer of poetry and short stories. I want to paint the world in but a few words.
Paul Neglia

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Paul Neglia

Proud father of 3. Part time writer of poetry and short stories. I want to paint the world in but a few words.

8 thoughts on “Broken Rails

  • December 14, 2016 at 8:07 PM
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    Nicely emotive and poignantly penned as to the cycles of life and reflected regrets, trying to grasp change as time marks life. Well done Paul

    Reply
    • December 15, 2016 at 3:28 PM
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      Thank you so much Tony. I’m glad you took favor to this.~Paul

      Reply
    • December 15, 2016 at 3:29 PM
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      Thank you so much Phyllis. ~Paul

      Reply
  • December 16, 2016 at 1:27 AM
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    Your sensitive sentimental outpouring brings your words dancing off the page for my mind to ponder and wonder on. Your passionate take on life and its many corners is hauntingly written, with just a tinge of romanticism. Your talent roars here, as your words entwine into a fateful tale. Loved this one!

    Reply
    • December 18, 2016 at 7:09 AM
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      Donald,my friend , thank you,so much for your amazing review. I am glad you have found your way over here. It is a good feeling to have a friend such as you to share my poetry with here. Good,to see you my friend.~Paul

      Reply
  • December 17, 2016 at 11:09 PM
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    Very expressive of the vagrant’s life. Image conjured of walking along endless tracks never knowing where they’ll end.

    Reply
    • December 18, 2016 at 7:05 AM
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      Thank you so much Rasmas.

      Reply

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