Red-Headed
08-05-2011, 09:16 PM
Sometimes the wolf in me likes to howl
Under a bright full moon and a backdrop of stars.
A feral, primal, instinctive animal roaming
Rich hunting grounds of the past.
I can prowl at will among the flora and fauna
Of yesterday, there is really nothing to stop me.
I know the streets and the alleyways of these towns
With their familiar odours, sights and sounds.
I know my bearings here and I can choose the time of day
Or more usually the night (which is particularly preferred).
Maybe we are really the same I suppose, although
We may not agree on who exactly is the 'alpha’ being.
Invisibly I trot past the pubs and bars of my youth
Giving them a sideways glance and moving on.
It is always nice to see them again
In all of their former glories, or not, as the case may be.
I have canine hearing and the crackle of vinyl
From an old-style jukebox pricks up my ears,
As familiar tunes begin to move the ether
With percussive bangs startling my savage heart.
The smoke from a Gitanes mixed with stale beer
And the piss from a urinal reminds me of shady deals
With shadier dealers of amphetamine highs,
Or Lebanese 'take away' to party and drop with.
There is excitement electric making the air crackle
And fast food vendors can be smelled upwind.
Ululations in the distance, dark foreboding silhouettes,
I move among them, lithe and lissom, svelte and flexile.
But it has to end, the sun will rise, the moon will set
The wolf in me will go to sleep, so I can awaken.
Generations nocturnally prowl those grounds
That generations to come will make their own.
Under a bright full moon and a backdrop of stars.
A feral, primal, instinctive animal roaming
Rich hunting grounds of the past.
I can prowl at will among the flora and fauna
Of yesterday, there is really nothing to stop me.
I know the streets and the alleyways of these towns
With their familiar odours, sights and sounds.
I know my bearings here and I can choose the time of day
Or more usually the night (which is particularly preferred).
Maybe we are really the same I suppose, although
We may not agree on who exactly is the 'alpha’ being.
Invisibly I trot past the pubs and bars of my youth
Giving them a sideways glance and moving on.
It is always nice to see them again
In all of their former glories, or not, as the case may be.
I have canine hearing and the crackle of vinyl
From an old-style jukebox pricks up my ears,
As familiar tunes begin to move the ether
With percussive bangs startling my savage heart.
The smoke from a Gitanes mixed with stale beer
And the piss from a urinal reminds me of shady deals
With shadier dealers of amphetamine highs,
Or Lebanese 'take away' to party and drop with.
There is excitement electric making the air crackle
And fast food vendors can be smelled upwind.
Ululations in the distance, dark foreboding silhouettes,
I move among them, lithe and lissom, svelte and flexile.
But it has to end, the sun will rise, the moon will set
The wolf in me will go to sleep, so I can awaken.
Generations nocturnally prowl those grounds
That generations to come will make their own.