poem, Poetry

The Rocket Ride

Now you’re on the launchpad,
waiting for the rocket ride,
and if you play it cool enough,
maybe they’ll invite you inside,
so deep inside,
the catacombs of Wonderland,
the world as you’ve never seen,
the soft, white, underbelly,
of the darkest dream,
where everything is at your service,
waiting to be claimed,
waiting for the rocket ride,
waiting for the fame.
Oh, the pretty party,
the glitter and the glow,
of the world above,
where the pretty people go.
I saw the toothy grin he flashed,
when he told you it was sweet,
a barker at the carnival,
of tantalizing treats,
the linen on the tables,
the high-cotton of the sheets,
and there she is just waiting,
the temptation made complete,
because the new life is an abandonment
of who you were before,
you’ll say you haven’t changed,
while you’re walking through the door,
where “down to earth” is the new pretension,
from oh so high above,
no, you haven’t changed one bit,
you’re still in it all for love.
Now you’re on the rocket ride,
going too fast to quit,
and the Earth is far behind you,
the myth of gravity,
and it’s what you always wanted,
too far away to see,
the bottom of the ladder,
the place you started from,
the money and attention,
has left you feeling numb,
to the clawing and the climbing,
to the life you left behind,
the memories are fading,
it was only in your mind,
where you thought it would be different,
where you thought space would be warm,
and you thought you would remember,
who you were before.