David McCarthy, New Haven, CT

Poetry

The Walk
With many paths not chosen, can there really only be one
We have 24 hours in a day, but less then 12 under the sun

We get caught up in the day-to-day, wake ,work, eat, sleep then you’re done
What ever happened to things we used to think when we were young

I wanna wander the world
Live where there’s snow, but ride a surfboard
I wanna drive by air, and walk by sea
Don’t want a lot of money, just enough is good for me

What if I was poor, but really happy
Would you walk right past, or stop and chat with me
Imagine your life, the way you wanted it to be
Is it just fine, or would you do things differently

The years seem to come faster now, makes it really hard to breath
We never have enough time, that’s our excuse for everything

Did this world decide to have me, or do I decide to have it
Does it come on a golden plate right next to a tasteless garnish

We pay for things even after were dead, our wallets out live us
Credit cards and Tax returns, I just want to stop thinking and live life instead

I wanna travel, see the world
Live in the snow, and ride a surf board
I wanna drive by air, and walk by sea
Don’t want a lot of money, just enough to live free

What if I was poor but happy, living in the street
Would you walk right past, or stop and chat with me
Imagine your life, the way you wanted it to be
Did it turn out just fine, or would you do things differently

What is this life, and what am I supposed to be
I ask my self these questions, but it’s these questions that should ask me
So many things to think and thoughts to say without enough time in a day

Before we know it it’s a whole new year, and we just stacked our dreams to high to bare
There’s swims to swim and seas to see, but I am drowning in this ocean we call poverty
With mountains to dig and holes to climb, I just wonder when I will ever have the time

These places and cities to travel we dream,
Like a needle round a record, we feel stuck and scream
Are our lives predestined from beginning to end,
Or can I leave this groove, this path, this way we defend

Should I keep doing something because it’s what’s I’ve always done
Can I get off this path, or is there only one

So who am I in this world, do I even have a say
I think I will just start small by not living life day-to-day
Stop and listen, to what the kid in me has to say

David E. McCarthy
03/2008

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Reflections
What’s more alive, my reflections or I?
Do they reveal my inner side?

Are shiny surfaces doors to parallel universes?
Where everything is opposite, and I am the inverse

Do my loves become my hates?
Do my hates become my loves?
Or can I feel here and not there?
Do I breathe, and is there air?

Maybe that world is more real then this one, lately that would make more sense.
For I feel nothing like myself, and everything is less intense.

My hobbies are boring,
Things just feel a mess,
My free time feels wasted,
And I feel noting beating inside my chest.

What do I have to do to feel alive?
To feel happy,
Get excited,
To feel loved,
And not pushed aside.

When I look in a mirror, do I see my other side?
Do I see the positive me looking back at the negative side?

Am I real, am I alive?

David E. McCarthy
05/2008