Dusty -revised

[billy]

cliches aren't good in genral as far as poetry is concerned. even less on a first line.
I just don’t know what to do with myself  is a  hit song written by burt baccarat and sung by dusty springfield and few other famous singers. (if you think you've read/heard it before the odds are you have) i do see you title it dust but perhaps the first line would have been better for the title what spoils it is most of the lines are from the lyrics of many popular songs and artists. it's not an original concept in and of itself though it can be used as an writing exercise.  many lyrics are cliche and cliche, as i said above spoils most poems. for me it doesn't work and reads as a bit of a cheat.

I just don’t know what to do with my self
and it’s seldom I can locate it.
I’m circled on maps but when I stop to ask  this one is like a line from a jake miller song
then mist has covered the traces.
In living rooms and in limbo, this one almost belongs to jimmy cliff
on all fours and on tiptoe I’ve chased it.
I’ve read the self-help literature,
Bergson et al and etcetera:
the brain is but a filterer
and in theory all can be heard and seen,
what is now and what has been.
The world is on my fingerprints,  this is a coupling of two lines from paul simon's all around the world
its garbage overflows the bins
and I am blown by violins
to search my self to smithereens
down half-remembered alleyways,
the detritus of all the days
that’s settled on your counterpane.
Let’s fumble locks and zips and lips
too intimately intricate,
let’s laugh and listen to the drip
of percussion dabbled blue.
Let’s steal a ball with a private invite
and dare the world to pursue;
at daybreak when the dust has flattened
and the great birds hover and squawk,
I’ll shrink smaller than invisible
and beg you to turn on the dark.