Phone Booth Graveyard

Phone Booth Graveyard

© 2020 Jeff Jackson

Gravity of life’s

Been pulling, been pushing

It’s hard not to flinch

When you’re karma’s pin cushion

Yesterday I felt

like paper in the shredder, today

I’m rubbed on the grate

Like a block of sharp cheddar

Try to keep my hopes up and

Prepare for the best

Will tomorrow’s sun rise

Then set in the west?

Tired of counting the people

And things that I’ve lost

If there’s a rock God can’t lift,

It’s gotta be the Cross

It’s gotta be this Cross

It’s just another day

When I stare out at the forest

I see faces in the trees

Looking for the wild flowers

But all I see are weeds

Set my joy on the window

Stolen by a pie thief

Seems the anger that I carry

S’really deep fried grief

All I want is the stars

and a smoking campfire

Not be scared of the dark,

The werewolves and vampires

Everything that grows

Has to start in the dark

But I feel ‘bout as useful as a

Phone booth graveyard

A phone booth graveyard.

Yeah, I’ll be OK

Light some shot glass candles

Admire the view

Prop your feet on the seat of

Abandoned church pews

Stop mowing the sidewalk

Doing one-armed push-ups

Sip the top of the bottle

Not the bottom of the cup