"Broken Down"

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broken down on the side of despair

(thumb in the air)

hitchhiking for change

my heart done run out of oil

mouth open like hood up

trying to taste rain

it's really my car

but if your wheels is who you are

then we one and the same

'cept i feel even dirtier

so maybe i need it to storm

cuz' i done picked up too many stains

done met too many names and forgotten too many faces

and lately my fingers have become scissor hands

slicing everything it traces

now i got edward even looking for me in awkward places

say i stole his identity sorta' like

michael jackson has every other races

until he's anything but black yet and still he's black

so if you edward then i admit to being johnny depp

after the fact

figurin' i do need to get my hands back

think i left them somewhere in a broken down car

flippin' thru usher raymond's lyrics

reading that of his album's 6th track

wondering how many bridges i've burned

or just how many frames i've cracked

the time now'bout a half past pain( or somethin' like that)

can't help but to reminisce over the names

of women who've always found a way

to tell me how much i've lacked

but that i was still enough for them to take a crack

and dis/cover the contents of my shell

now fairytales of humpty

and how he really thought he was the perfect egg

until he fell

and the messages in my bottles

have played scrabble with so many lover's letters

there's now too many to spell

so lately dark movie theatres is where my heart dwells

using the actor's tears for oil until my chest swells

done even moved my soul

between the spaces of over-read pages

where i now receive my mail

from whithered roses left on stages

to past due bills

life is twisted convoluted

done sticthed spurs into these heels

so this lone ranger can simply deal

just wanna' remain grounded on my ride into the sunset

looking for my tonto

astounded that a man's daytime of struggle can

feel like there's no tomorrow

but his overnight can happen pronto

and i figure i can stand the walk to calvary

but the crucifixion is not what i want though

i fell apart on my way 2 becoming a movie star

and before the next day is dark

a broken down non-moving car

(waiting for the mechanic to fix my heart so it can withstand longer wear and tear)

like a homeless man i shoplift shopping carts

looking for my last meal and searching for mary magdalene

somewhere in there (so we can chatoutcast to outcast until we both disappear)

pray for each other's broken down brothers

and instead of street lights

watchin' thousands of feet fight

with thumbs in the air

hoping the next beep might take them somewhere

anywhere but here

where no kids grow

on skid row

where faceless angels dance around

ageless questions of holy grails

and beat around bushes of "eternal sunshines"

in spotted jails

where inmates ain't got no window nor a pot to piss in

but maybe they got a pail

so maybe i ain't got no hand

but then maybe i got a finger

so i'm reminded to be thankful for the nail

the time nowabout 45 minutes past hell

or maybe a-quarter-to heaven

jus' got a call from a friend

his mama named him devin

but it must be poetic justice

cuz' God changed his name to poetri

ask me to write a creed to his unborn seed

without his seed even "knowing" me

and my windshield has now started to bleed

i'm tryin' to con/soul her but even she's ignoring me

the blood pours until she begins to crack

and i wonder if these storms would be easier to to endure

if she and i just got highjacked

leaving only the emptiness of a basquiat plaque

that had to it a torn piece of paper

held up by a thumb tack

that reads: "GOD'S APRIL FOOLS JOKE ON ME!"

and maybe any second now

god will call back and remind me of the date

then eternal sunshine my fate

and make charlie kaufman the poet of my life's plate

and whatever i was'nt able to eat could be forgotten

until it's memories are completely erased

© Copyright 2004, Omari Lateef Hardwick

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