Not A Traffic Light

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Traffic lights have such an easy job
Blinking life away, oblivious
To shattered glass and acts of tragedy
Or signs of cardboard begging charity
Who am I to stand aghast at life
Twisted metal spilling in the streets
And ask the reasons why it all should be
When I could wait in quiet apathy
But I am not a blinking traffic light
I am not a lifeless entity
Conscious to the wreckage we create
I am not content to sit and wait
We have felt the force of passing forms
Ripping through the course of our intent
I can taste the spillage of our hearts
I inhale the putrid bitter scent
Burnt and broken heaps that once were love
Scattered on the landscape of desire
Empty vessels gutted in the dark
Hope that we abandoned to the fire
Sometimes I would like to be machine
Incapable of tears for what I know
But I am not a traffic light that blinks
I cannot tell when to stop or go

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26 responses to “Not A Traffic Light

  1. I am glad you are not a traffic light. Humanity should have more going for it than stop and go and living with hope abandoned and love scattered on the landscape of desire. There is some strong language in this poem, but mostly the wreckage we see around us is upsetting enough to deserve strong language.

  2. Sometimes I feel very much like a burnt and broken heap that once was love.
    So well worded and beautifully painful.

    I hope the spillage of our hearts is not too much to taste. Goodnight VW

  3. VW, I had such a strong reaction to this that my husband (sitting nearby) turned around and said “what?” I had exhaled loudly in a release of admiration for your poetry – once again. This is another striking example of your masterful imagery and phrasing!

  4. “I can taste the spillage of our hearts
    I inhale the putrid bitter scent
    Burnt and broken heaps that once were love” Wonderfully powerful and innovative phrasing to say how you are NOT a stoplight! Praise be you can FEEL! I honor your mourning lost loves, wrecked loves, twisted loves here. Very strong poem that sets such a great example of sharing genuine emotion in a way that leads to more consciousness.

  5. To feel is to be masochistic
    Love pure still hurts
    And happiness
    Is often tinged with ridicule
    Being human
    Is our weakest link
    And our best asset
    But the more I stop and think
    The more I envy these machines

    I love this, so true and it is how I often feel. Traffic lights see so much of us and we never stop and think if what they see is what we need to improve or that sometimes not feeling and always knowing is a grand luxury.
    Andrea xoxo

  6. A great poem VW, I’ve had times when it would have been easier to be a machine, sometimes feelings can be overwhelming, especially the painful ones.
    Happy Valentines Day.

    β”€β”€β”€β–„β–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–„β”€β”€β”€β”€β”€β–„β–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–„
    β”€β–„β–ˆβ–“β–“β–“β–“β–“β–“β–ˆβ–„β”€β–„β–ˆβ–“β–“β–“β–“β–“β–“β–ˆβ–„
    β–β–ˆβ–“β–“β–“β–“β–“β–’β–’β–“β–“β–“β–“β–“β–’β–’β–“β–“β–“β–“β–“β–ˆβ–Œ
    β–ˆβ–ˆβ–“β–“β–“β–’β–’β–’β–‘β–‘β–’β–“β–’β–‘β–‘β–’β–’β–’β–“β–“β–“β–ˆβ–ˆ
    β–ˆβ–ˆβ–“β–“β–’β–’β–‘β–‘β–‘β–‘β–“β–‘β–“β–‘β–‘β–‘β–‘β–’β–’β–“β–“β–ˆβ–ˆ
    β–β–ˆβ–“β–“β–’β–’β–‘β–‘β–‘β–“β–‘β–‘β–‘β–“β–‘β–‘β–‘β–’β–’β–“β–“β–ˆβ–Œ
    β”€β–€β–ˆβ–“β–“β–’β–’β–‘β–‘β–‘β–“β–‘β–“β–‘β–‘β–‘β–’β–’β–“β–“β–ˆβ–€
    β”€β”€β”€β–€β–ˆβ–“β–“β–’β–’β–‘β–‘β–“β–‘β–‘β–’β–’β–“β–“β–ˆβ–€
    β”€β”€β”€β”€β”€β–€β–ˆβ–“β–“β–’β–’β–‘β–’β–’β–“β–“β–ˆβ–€
    β”€β”€β”€β”€β”€β”€β”€β–€β–ˆβ–“β–“β–“β–“β–“β–ˆβ–€
    β”€β”€β”€β”€β”€β”€β”€β”€β”€β–€β–ˆβ–ˆβ–ˆβ–€
    ───────────▀ Big hugs, Nikki

  7. VW this is indeed a deep poem entwined with metal and colours of red and Green.. to stop or go or stay inbetween..
    Argh…… now….. what colour am I waiting for πŸ™‚ πŸ˜‰ Loved this xx

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