Those Nowhere Lands

a lyrical poem about friends lost along the roads of addiction

They come from somewhere, To a place not too far off from nowhere; a pub on the outskirts of dying lands. They come, those many despaired faces, with identities, weaved by lost hopes by friends left in the dust of old turnpikes roads of America’s fractured families a secret kept within; a riddle in the dark.

This place holds the memories of ghosts that hide from friend and foe fate and consequence; life and time.

And it’s here where they wander to It’s here where they fall to, It’s here where death brings them to Just before the fall, Just before the uncertain rise.

In a life forgotten In a story that failed them Through the highs and the lows void of consistency, the feeling of tiredness that sorrow bestows. A tale they tell each other, within their words, they hide the truth within the lies within their names, they hide the truth within their cries.

O! the sorrow O! the nowhere lands of tomorrow To flee the shadows of yesterday To flee that which they fear most That which they shall take to the grave

Here they come To find solace in a bottle To find peace in hell.

The last mile on earth is the final smile to unearth memories that permeate Thoughts of endless forest shifts to lay down before the meadows to hear a meadowlark sing its obscuration to the coming dawn, those broken mortal songs

With no illusion they bestow freedom that releases shame Here they become no one; they become nobody the true self is that which is left behind. Here they become no one; they become nobody for the true self is that which is left aside, upon the outskirts of forsaken life.

Here they come as tragic characters and leave as shades Here they flee a life that took more than it gave To lay there fallen souls in a damned man hands

Waiting to be judged Waiting to be released Past those lands of nowhere Past the sunrise that no longer greets Far beyond the last hill to meet or the last house to seize a family they left to memory

Far beyond the grimacing moon Shadows that chill raven eyes, envious, view Here, in midst of somewhere This place scuttling in moments of nowhere in the outskirts of these unholy lands

Here they come not to live, nor to die Here they come in the lands of nowhere not to forget, but to be forgotten. Here they come not to live nor die Here they come in the lands of nowhere not to forget, but to be forgotten

To be

forgotten.

© Bradley J Nordell 2020