Poems: 170121 - January 17th, 2021

301220A
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They do the damage
to whatever it was 
so no one will want 
what is damaged 
as whatever it is
they won't let be 
what would have been
exist as anything. 

Existential despair 
piles up winter 
white shroud throws
over dead lands 
frost heaved desires 
at the go, no go
conditions of deep freeze 
in grim light. 

The new killing fields 
littered with
the unidentified 
distorted half truths 
taken out 
the way shell fish are 
scooped soft 
from hard shell. 

Reminded school days
day dreamt escapes 
from similar monotony 
slipping away
into something 
more fundamental 
then lesson plans 
groping stray attention. 
  
Always too late 
for what passes as love
in between times
of always on time 
for what passes as war
thrusts and parries 
forming long lines 
build ups of competition. 

It is in the having 
of no one 
that freedom becomes 
commonly claimed
yet dissipates 
until it seems to be 
vaguely ideal 
and without substance. 

They say everything 
is no more than about 
crowing of any cock
three times and more 
emptied between layers
of emotional betrayals 
stabbing successive 
domestic habits. 

The scavenger hunt 
follows hide and seek 
measures of failure 
trying to conceal 
true reasons for all
that scar tissue 
layered pain growth
that is making us. 

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020121A
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Chaos of squabble 
cleaving of  branches 
hanging nearby trees
as if an excitement 
drawing lots 
as to dead shades
of wing span
fluttering gut feel. 

It seems too late 
for anything 
that would make you 
something necessary
yet everything does 
in peculiar ways 
so much more 
than it did. 

The misfortune 
that makes invalids 
from forays of strength
and dreams 
cutting down 
the autumn time 
when everything shows
its trumpet colours. 

So it becomes true 
I really might die 
without you
from a broken heart 
as the ironic fact
of end games 
I never expected 
to really happen.

I was always misled 
in all the ways I could
never have imagined 
about everything 
made to pass muster 
as a right ideas 
between the pillars 
of salt and strength. 

It conspires 
toward too common
endless assurances
that we never meet
in chanced moments
anywhere, anything
where I could spend 
anything at. 

Misguided thoughts 
about missed places
in lost futures 
other side of everything 
being held up
reserved and kept 
at a forever brink edge
of contemplate. 

What is done 
does not really matter 
to anyone anymore 
even as to the more 
and again 
of trying to perfect 
facsimiles of attraction
passing social muster. 

Whole lifetimes 
can go that way 
into a plethora 
counts up 
true costs as to all
that was lost 
in endless pursuits 
turned impossibilities.  

Impossible to reckon 
unending concerns 
contrary to happening 
begins so innocent 
before destruction 
making guilty 
of a wrong way  life's
round abouts. 

Trying to go  
round about throes 
each forever forget 
reach cut short 
on the long stretch 
to chopped down 
by the casuals
of this or that party. 

We take a spin 
to extraordinary 
dreams wake up 
deep scuttled times  
having met no one 
except traitors 
hidden bilge rat
at the going down. 

Spoiled cargo 
knows nothing 
of safe harbours
trying to make  
mythic shores
of touched upon
what has become 
foreign bodies. 

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030121A
------------ 

Half a century
and more than 
still being 
an alien 
in your country 

Seems only 
yesterday when 
we got off 
that boat 
then railroaded
into steel town. 

Dominion shopping 
and taken out 
long drive 
countryside 
turns of city. 

We were tourists 
grilled sausages
roadside table 
site seeing 
popular amazements. 

Wildness seemed
far as the eye
span of fenced
parcels along
grit roads. 

So much forbidden
to strangers 
in a strange land 
explorers of cabins 
and encampments. 

Good times 
campfires 
on chill nights
of fish tale  
and a frog chorus. 

You can reside 
in a place 
a lifetime 
never to feel 
anything settled. 

Growing roots 
always fearing 
pulled out 
from everything 
that becomes precious.

No one left 
to make feel
really at home 
seems fresh off
the boat again. 

It gets harder 
each time 
around same  
losses start over 
from new.  
 
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100121A
------------ 

Why is it 
all the best 
came to be 
memories 
saddest side up  
darkened play
sketchy craves
made too guilty for 
something was
never left over
carnage trails
past becoming 
ghosts say
we can 
never hold on 
past the permit
to would have 
been so good 
before dredging
whatever ends
left out
the mucked mind 
and merely 
a once was. 

No one calls them
the deplorable 
and upstarts now 
in our always 
brave and new 
world ordering 
of the Narcissists 
paranoids march
megalomaniacs 
lined up 
in grandeur delusions 
sorts of scramble 
glass slippery brains 
adept at slopes 
sliding greased way
along push shove 
pull and heave 
All the times
the praise
and the bitterness 
of it all ends 
unknown. 

Useless paper 
junkies
at Useless 
paper heaped
official piles
smashed plots
grave marked
evening measured 
and their own 
inflated senses
of senseless   
self serving 
self importance. 

Frozen teardrops
wash over heaven 
and rain down 
glass shard 
blank shine
crystal nights 
into upturned 
blinded eyes 
gone icy 
pierced through 
with fail 
made common 
formalities of any 
sort of romance. 

There never was
any love in wisdom 
nor wisdom in love 
past bounded
forays into wild
fickle chance 
shop markets
at various brands
in a usual despair 
offerings given up
free gifts
in exchange 
for collecting 
box tops 
and send small fees
for postage 
and handling. 

Time is taken 
into account 
and the mind 
rocks back 
filled with breaking 
down and gravel
wordy drag  
down impressions 
made pressed 
into sand 
gritty not much
anything into
gone really past 
grind stone life
in bits strung along 
the strung out face
of someone's
rock solid stare 
and the bared blade
carving its way.  

Closing one's eyes
to the farce 
comes around 
any contrary way 
that fictions go
against reality stream 
long proven 
and confirmed 
within the bitter 
that serves
as experienced. 

I stopped believing 
in dreams 
even before 
they were long lost 
meted out 
with punishment 
to all that wanting 
and wishing 
that went before. 

Noir entertainments 
hardly surprise 
the captive 
with their fragments 
of life never knew 
and what gain 
comes into any 
from torments 
brought baskets 
heaped never was 
to what end 
as if youth 
is eternal 
and every love 
another chance. 

Maybe I loved 
but you were nothing 
more than another 
loaded gun 
with someone else
on the trigger 
pulling you back 
a hammer in behind 
your bullet
and as always 
meant for me. 

-----------------

You got that far and lived to tell the tale ?  You are tougher than I thought, but it was the parts that I left out that would have absolutely killed you. So be thankful for that.