Rhetorical

February 20, 2017 — Leave a comment

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I can’t shake off this furious anxiety

That thwarts my breathing, to

Shallow repetitive beats,

Obscuring

My capacity

For normal thoughts,

 

And when I wondered why those

Intermittent perturbances

Should even be?

The question

Answered itself.

 

 

Image from The Odyssey Online

No Card Needed

February 13, 2017 — 2 Comments

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My signature on a Valentine’s card

Will fade over time.

But the aching intensity

Of my love

For you,

Will never

Be destroyed

By moments.

 

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How much more can I take

From the weak, petty and jealous

Propping up their frail egos

By draining me

Of my peace

Of mind?

 

How will this end?

 

Their ego and character will sit unsteadily

On a dry faltering castle of sand

As my mind

Will become even more focused

And rid of the trivial,

Glowing like real solid gold

 

As the froth from the sliding ripples

Crawls

Towards an already

Shaky fort.

 

And the happiness

Drained from me

 

Was not enough

To save the castle

From crumbling

Back to the sea.

 

 

Doppelgänger

February 10, 2017 — Leave a comment

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Annoying neighbors, very intrusive,

Pry into my thinking process

(Whispers and rumors)

Because I stand alone.

 

I am not moved by windy whims,

Or current trends,

Or little lies

Or envy.

And don’t care if Jack

Bought a new lawn mower.

Or slept with one of his students.

 

I was born alone, 

Solitaire from dawn to dusk

But.

 

I do admit,

 

Any time the antagonism becomes

Overwhelmingly intense,

(Fortified by not knowing what I’ve done)

I step aside,

And conjure up a doppelgänger 

And hand it over.

 

I give him the racing brain,

And resentment,

The swirling fury

And anything else

I don’t need,

To get through the day,

And bid him farewell.

 

Though I must warn you, 

Bumping into this other personae

Would not be much fun for anyone.

 

 

 

Image – SPIE Digital Library

The Fisherman’s Jug

February 9, 2017 — Leave a comment

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The oak table in the corner, sturdy and solid,

Under the candelabra ,

In the farmhouse,

A cracked jug on top.

 

With other kitchen accruements

Laid out neatly

By the stove,

The plates and tankards

Strung on the wall,

It’s easy to ignore

The cracked jug.

 

Most visitors were apathetic

Regarding the unglazed vessel

That had been left

By an old fisherman.

 

Even the new tenants

And their friends

And families

Dismissed it

As aesthetically spoiling.

 

And the old fisherman

Who once lived there

Knew what it was like

To be ignored

And untouched

And unloved,

 

Saw the blemish on the jug

As a scar

That defined the jug

A perceptible imperfect mark.

 

So before he died

The old fisherman

Dropped a large pearl

Inside the jug

And left it there.

 

When he was gone,

And when people came by the farmhouse

They ignored the dirty old jug

Sitting alone;  like the old man

Would sit alone,

Not realizing that if they looked inside,

They would see the real beauty

The true value,

And their lives could have been changed

Forever.

And they come to tea
Uninvited
Fondling my fragile china cups
Tedious tapping of a tea spoon
On a saucer.

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Only to have my faith and peace trashed
And crumpled up
And thrown back on to the path.

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All One And The Same

February 3, 2017 — Leave a comment

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I can’t even go into Walmart

Without some extraterrestrial type

Looking or saying something

That jumps on my amygdala,

And bugs me for hours.

 

And I can’t go into Walgreens

Without passing a surly associate

Who doesn’t want to be there,

Without hearing a song from the seventies

That brings back feelings

Of being trapped in an elevator

(With an associate from Walgreens)

 

And I can’t go into Starbucks

Without knowing I’m being ripped off,

But nevertheless hand over the bucks

To the grumpy  barista,

And take the gruesome coffee

Around Target,

As finally I’ve made up my mind

To look at last

For a Keurig machine

So I don’t have to put myself through this bitter hell

Every day.

 

And I can’t go to a restaurant

Without some dopey brat

Squealing

As her intellectually challenged

Guardians

Laugh and look around

To see if we’re enjoying their kids

As much as they are.

 

Yet I reserve my tears for the movies,

The cinema that died

Such a long time ago.

It’s not just Britney

Texting throughout the film

Or the grossly overweight pensioners

Jamming popcorn into their mouths.

 

It’s what these actors

Have done to our people,

Brought a darkness instead of light

Into their lives.

 

Spewed propaganda in between takes,

Because they can.

And soured

The joy and happiness

We often found,

In years gone by,

When fantasy was the escape

We wanted, and needed, at times.

Now there is no escape,

Or even a reality,

It’s now all  one and the same.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Peace Through Heavy

January 31, 2017 — Leave a comment

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Another Friday night, I walked into the pub,

To meet my Dad who was cradling

A pint of Heavy,

And using his other hand

To prop up the bar,

With his eyes fixed on the Glasgow sawdust.

His swaying difficult to discern

But I could see it.

 

“Time to go home” I said.

Looking up he grinned “Hello son, want a pint”

And I had to decide,

Whether to stay and swallow a few,

Or to put his arm around my shoulder

And walk him home through the night time headlights,

And the rain,

And watch my Mum scream and throw a tantrum,

Which is more hellish than watching my Dad

Stagger.

 

So I ordered a pint and a Glenfiddich

With a splash of water,

And when my Dad looked at me

And lifted his pint,

He said “Cheers”

And how many beers

We had after that

I can’t remember,

And when I got home,

And how I got home

I can’t remember

So the night was a success

All round.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Dark Roses

January 29, 2017 — Leave a comment

Nobody knows
What it’s like
Trying to get out of a locked room
When the key is missing

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