Poem -

My harmonica smile...

My harmonica smile...

Shackled, pickled and diluted identity
The devil has stole my days but I was innocent
Railroad, bed of bones, suffocating insanity
Numbers upon numbers, days are long, fingers are crippled

My harmonica weeps, all the while I have an innocent smile, deep down inside
I don't let it show, this is prison life, this is my harmonica smile

Oh Lord I can hear the sound
Oh Lord one day I'll be found
Unchain me from this land
Take me away before I drown

Chained male, dirty men in a row, red hot poker sun, face like stone
Leathered skin, some are a living sin, evil follows with a foolish grin
Barbed wire, shots fired, click it back and aim for another crossing the line
Hope for change, morning breath in my veins,
I pray to keep my faith
Oh Lord I pray
Oh Lord I pray

I see mounds in the field, just another prisoner running spree, this is not the silver screen
Bullets pierce, lost freedom skin
I can almost hear my instrument weep
I play the sound of an innocent man wanting to be free...

My harmonica weeps, all the while I have an innocent smile, deep down inside
I don't let it show this is prison life, this is my harmonica smile
My harmonica smile I keep for me
As one day I'll hear the words,
You're free....

Like 5 Pin it 0
Support CosmoFunnel.com

Support CosmoFunnel.com

You can help support the upkeep of CosmoFunnel.com via PayPal.

Log in to leave a comment.

Comments

author
James unsworth

Another brilliant write wayne ?? love reading your poetry ?

Reply
author
Wayne Stubbs

Wow! Thanks very much James, it means a lot! ??

Reply
author
Wayne Stubbs

Haha! Ahhh get the blues out..! Feel the stories in the sound haha, thanks very much Nigel! Very much appreciated ?

Reply
author
lodigiana

Brilliant concept  Wayne! love this...so atmospheric !  great work  
Lodigiana x

Reply
author
Wayne Stubbs

Wow! Thanks very much for your lovely comment lodigiana, your supportive comments are very much appreciated ??

Reply
author
John DeFoore Jr

Seldom speechless, it took me a minute after reading to collect my thoughts.
a great work images galore.
Schooled for 4 short years early 60’s in a small Mississippi town.
a chain gang did all our school grounds gardening and upkeep.
usually 4 to 5 men and a trustee (armed)
As a teenager I never felt sorry for them, you introduced an element not there in my childhood.
now to ponder.
thank for the read.
john

Reply
author
Wayne Stubbs

Wow! What an excellent comment! I mean the majority might be guilty but in the times I'm speaking of i think quite a number were there for another form of slavery, I might be wrong but I was going through the lines of "what if" I seem to hold a torch for that one innocent soul, 
thanks again John, I'm glad I gave you thoughts to ponder ?

Reply
Poem -

The Dwelling Place...

The Dwelling Place...

The Dwelling place of demons where temptation is a mistress,
A place of debauchery, saucery with a...

Poem -

A Dystopian Euphoria.

A Dystopian Euphoria.

A dystopian euphoria shedding it's skin,
Destruction slithered among the tattered wings,
If...

Poem -

A Delicate Disaster...

A Delicate Disaster...

Memories dripping down the wall,
Like tears that echo stories til dawn,
Slumped, taken...

Latest poems in Freestyle, Speculative, Tragedy, Verse

Poem -

FIRE CAN'T BURN FIRE

FIRE CAN'T BURN FIRE

It's always funny when people think they're smarter...

Wiser...

Have all the answers?...

Poem -

Fossilized Us

Fossilized Us

Had this weird premonition
about my sudden extinction
by an event unforeseen

Ain't...

Poem -

My Favorite Thing to Do

My Favorite Thing to Do

Everyday's a new day
Everyday is a blue day
When I don't see you
Everyday's an...

Advertise on CosmoFunnel.com