My Last Poem by Chris G.

Posted: May 23, 2010 in Poems

This is the end,

the end of a season

of a time to an era;

the end of all reason.

This is the end of a phase,

so it seems,

and I have see prophetic things

in dreams

of the end of a road

leaving me left or right.

What’s left behind is now far out of sight.

It’s over with. I’m done.

What else is there to say?

It’s prison prison prison prison

every single day.

It’s prison poems and love poems

and prison poems and love poems

and prison poems and drug poems

and criminal and thug poems.

Did I say prison poems?

 

The end of the beginning

and beginning of the end,

the middle of a cycle

in a vicious trend.

The end of a prison sentence

and the mend of a heart

leaves me crawling through penance

and back to start.

This is it.

I can’t see myself back in the game.

And this is my last poem.

I’m through rackin’ my brain.’

This is the end of all things old

to which be made new,

the end of  the world as we know it

after all we’ve been through.

It’s the end of  the night

now that here comes the sun.

Just like the click of the cuffs

mean the end of the run.

And I’ve run out of ends

at the end of my rope

like we run out of friends

when we run out of dope.

And I’ve run out of ideas.

There’s nothing new under the sun.

See me when I hit the street

and I’m out from under the gun.

You know that it could be they free me any day,

but it doesn’t matter

cause nobody reads me anyway.

   by Chris G.

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