Portugal. The Man
He sits in the back of the van propped amongst open boxes of band t-shirts. The sound check is done. Boys are out drinking. Saving his drink for later he plays and writes. To himself he writes his future. He writes other people's pasts, and their soon to be present. People interrupt to get merch from the back of the van, but they cant distract him. He is focused on himself, and everyone who has ever inspired him. He keeps playing only stopping to scribble down lyrics. He writes to his future child, he writes to his mother passed, he sings out his heart to the empty space from the empty space in his heart.
Hours pass and he is now on stage. Hes playing old songs, and every word is new to his lips. He completely believes in what hes singing. He knows he belongs there.
He sits in the back of the van propped amongst open boxes of band t-shirts. The sound check is done. Boys are out drinking. Saving his drink for later he plays and writes. To himself he writes his future. He writes other people's pasts, and their soon to be present. People interrupt to get merch from the back of the van, but they cant distract him. He is focused on himself, and everyone who has ever inspired him. He keeps playing only stopping to scribble down lyrics. He writes to his future child, he writes to his mother passed, he sings out his heart to the empty space from the empty space in his heart.
Hours pass and he is now on stage. Hes playing old songs, and every word is new to his lips. He completely believes in what hes singing. He knows he belongs there.
VIEW 4 of 4 COMMENTS
trechriron:
It's brilliant. Vivid. Well done!
creamcuffs:
Excellent piece of writing. I'm sure a poetry class can be really difficult.