My entry for this month is a poem based on a book I'm reading, 11/22/63, by Stephen King. It might not make sense to most people, but I still like it.
YELLOW/BLACK CARD MAN
The past harmonizes
And we call it coincidence
But the past ties us
Down, down
And these things presented to us choices
Aren't really choices at all
The yellow card man
Just a drunkard, man
But when he sees through time's game
The card turns black
And you don't see that he and you
That he and you are much the same
'Till it's too late to turn back
The past is obdurant
It's the unstoppable force, dense
And you can play
The immovable object
But you're only human and you will
Die, die
And these things call your choices
Were never choices at all
The yellow card man
Just a drunkard, man
But when he sees through time's game
The card turns black
And you don't see that him and you
That him and you are much the same
'Till it's too late to turn back
The future is a house of cards
That you know must fall
Down, down
And become foundation all
But not yet, not now
Even so you pace next to it
Hoping you don't step too hard
And topple the house of cards
You are the yellow card man
(Jimla! Jimla!)
You are the yellow card man
(Jimla! Jimla!)
You are the yellow card man
(Jimla!)
Your yellow card turns black
And it's too late to turn back
|