Tuesday, November 19, 2013

Tales From The Darkside - Blacklist and Sip Your Numbed Paradise



Like most of my family and friends, Blacklist has quickly become my favorite show.  As an author I'm in awe of both the stories created by the writers, as well as the genius behind the characters.  I recently found this poem again, written by my son, Charles W. Prather, Jr.  And it reminded so much of James Spader's role in Blacklist. A man who appears to be helpful, but has his own agenda.  He will not change, and yet he invites those around him to join him, to take their souls off for just a moment and become a little tainted.  A little taint never hurt.  And are Liz and Red kindred spirits?  I believe they may be.  Is Red leading the FBI into "numbed paradise"?  I truly believe he may be.  What an amazing character.  

If you've watched the show, read the poem and let me know what you think.  I'm sure Charles would enjoy it, and I know I would. I see James Spader in every line.


SIP YOUR NUMBED PARADISE

Crumpled cigarettes litter the table,
Alcohol burns the throat,
The pattern of self-destruction forms,
Cacophony of voices permeate the air,
A den of forgotten dreams,
Washed away with pinpricks to the brain,
Here there are no names,
Faces are all that matter,
Time is merely a formality.

Sit down, take your soul off,
Let it sit in the corner for a while,
You don’t need to worry about it,
We’ll take away the cause,
Sip your numbed paradise.

Dance away your memories,
Who needs them here,
You are in this moment,
Just let go of your future uncertain,
You can certainly be sure it’s worthless.

Sit down, take your soul off,
Let it soak in the view,
A little taint never hurt,
We’ll take away the consequences,
Sip your numbed paradise.

The lights are now less faded,
We’ve got to bid you farewell,
Our time,
Out of time,
So long yet so short,
But come back tomorrow,
A kindred spirit cannot be denied,
Your table will be waiting.

Sit down, take your soul off,
Do you remember where you left it?
We’ll help you find it,
Sip your numbed paradise.

By:  Charles W. Prather, Jr.





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