Where Have All My Old Friends Gone?

Feeling like an anthropologist, I dug deep through my scrawlings and discovered this little number. Years ago I was quite the spoken word beast. I am pretty sure I jotted this one down while watching my performance partner screaming into a microphone. Turned out to be pure prophecy, as I have not heard from him in years.

As I watch you
Yelling and screaming
Your brow twisted
Your manic frustration
Putting your eyes in focus
And your brandished teeth
Flash grimly
And fist clenched (typically)
Around an old microphone
I wonder what will become of you

Where the future goes
These questions and others
I often ask myself
You, my mirror
Fate or precise plans
Cannot be counted on

Where do the souls go?

These old souls who have
Marched in line
Lead and fell
I recognized your soul, sir
Although from where
I do not know
I cannot shake its familiarity
And so old souls go
To find each other
A necessary direction
That brings a brief passing
And momentary comfort
In this world of strangers


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