Poetry

Poem: Motel for the Lost

By: Matthew R Moore

Motel for the lost

at the motel for the lost –
if you should find yourself here
there’s free admission and endless hours
while tires seem to sleep in sideways heaps
and bumpers corrode as thoughts unhinged

cars wave with bags in windows
while winds of surrender blow
and generational rain clouds brew a storm
getting ready to wash it all away
at the motel for the lost –

I asked her, “What does it all mean?”
She said, “It means everything and nothing.”
I said, “What if we lost everything and all that was left were nothing? Would nothing, then, become everything and nothing? Would there be a possibility that this has already happened, and what we currently conceive of as ‘everything and nothing’ is in fact merely nothing?”
“I’m lost,” she said.

at the motel for the lost –
there are holes in weathered roads
where people slow within muddy thought
and empowerment comes in torrents
belonging to blind men

the sun will set on forgotten dreams
and lightening will illuminate how
tired all seems
but “everything will be all right” here
at the motel for the lost –

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