Stranded Memories

Sitting in the chair of life,

Trying to remember,

Where I was,

Where I went,

What I am,

What I can be,

In a stranded memory.

Cruising down the street,

Across my old beats,

Trying to understand,

Where I came from.

I search for something,

Something,

In myself.

Who was I back in the day?

These stranded memories plague me.

I must find something,

I must find someone,

To teach me,

Educate me,

On myself.

Some days it seems I find the answers,

In a back yard,

On a pool deck,

In a club,

In the back of,

My mind.

I try to find that place,

Where I once was,

Where I knew,

Where I thought I knew,

Myself.

I felt something yesterday,

About myself,

About yourself,

About who we are,

About what we all are,

About who we think,

We are.

But, yet today, it’s gone.

That knowledge about yesterday,

About yesteryear,

Is only a stranded memory,

About myself.

Brought to you by Eddie Cabbage

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One thought on “Stranded Memories

  1. Simone says:

    Hey Eddie! I like your poem’s theme on, what seems to be, self-alienation or self-estrangement. I think this idea about a “stranded memory, about myself” is a strong one. Due to the figurative nature of the poem’s beginning and how the speaker struggles to find himself in very immediate things, I get the sense that, at some level, this poem is dealing with how obstructive, yet unyielding, metaphor is is the discovery of ourselves. Whatever the case, scribe on!

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