Poems: 300822 - August 30th, 2022

260822A
----------- 

The day melted away
feathered wing flutter
turned grey ashes.

A million things to do
and not one of them 
seems rationally sensible. 

Most of them will remain
at various points on a list
to invoke a usual guilt.  

The measure of value 
no longer adding up 
in balance with desire. 

A battle between darkness
and heaped up chores 
gains and loses ground. 

Busy people are happy
people reminiscent 
as to Hitler's big lie. 

Long freight train chugs
straining at its load 
of should and ought to. 

Nothing satisfying 
in the current burdens
demands to being carried. 

It is never the load 
we ever wanted 
but it is chance to get. 

A long stretched along 
short roads contemplate
hidden dead ends. 

The when and where 
comes up an entirety
set up against it. 

Imaginary punishments 
inflict themselves 
on the gullible minded. 

Nothing personal 
and did you have to
make it that difficult. 

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

260822B
----------- 

All your life it was
about taking chances
but it all boils down 
to the chances 
you did not get 
and could not take. 

Those are the ones 
that will be your torment
given to imagine
what might have been
for you to miss out on
amid other regrets. 

Fear the encore 
that is more tragic 
than what brought you
to a time and place
having nothing to do 
with choosing. 

Nothing to do 
but plenty of stupid things
keeping you busied at
meanings removed 
the way tags are pulled
from yesterday's bargains. 

A day of everything 
needs to mending 
with nothing in you 
to raise a rusting hammer
against bent nails 
fixing anything up. 

Sticks out in a crowd
as the sore thumb 
been hard hit on 
into reluctance throbs
under mental bandage
smile greetings. 

They keep telling you 
you are dying 
by your own hand 
but you know full well 
it is without any intent
at such bitter endings. 

Rumours of the lucky 
make it far worse 
in take aways of desire 
at the hang arounds 
with what was left
beyond any reckoning. 

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

260822C
------------ 

Conspiracies of madness 
cover  wastelands
up behind the spent. 

Wearers of talismans
signifying luck 
never really had. 

We all fall down 
husha husha holes 
to can't climb out of. 

Find something to do
and don't ever bother
anywhere or anyone. 

Told you don't need 
anyone and don't know
what you need. 

Time is a passage 
someone entered in 
to the eternal record. 

It all goes down 
a failed transition
between terminations. 

That tiny crack 
that chasms its scream 
into permanent ink. 

A Humpty Dumpty 
syndicated syndrome keeps
the king's men laughing. 

Deep down the well
tossed with the garbage
and the feelings. 

Grog save the king 
says jolly red roger 
and none were left alive. 

Hey diddle diddle 
every cat has a fiddle 
but no notes to play. 

A generation of postmen
made to give up the word
in this era of self images. 

The big mistake 
not remembering 
humans are dangerous.

It was run rabbit run
and this little piggy 
all the way home. 

Knowing the markets 
is not for everyone 
and you can't advertise. 

No way to true love 
in any of the want ad 
top ten sexes for hire. 

That is the going 
slide down far side 
curve balls of smiles. 

You feel a sharp cut 
as the rush turns hard 
then goes away. 

You keep doing it 
in hopes of pursued 
by an other's happiness. 

There goes all yours 
made unfortunate mascot
to the wrong team. 

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

260822D
------------ 

It is always the same 
as to those awful things
that made you 
most of what you became. 

Nothing nice to say 
about any of that 
but it tends to prove 
your parents were nicer. 

You could hide there 
from the monster  
and they would never know
what you were hiding from. 

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

280822A
------------ 

Given to those fears 
as to what will go wrong 
ticked off as next
on another secret list. 

There are intimations 
among false promises 
but all anticipation 
is always the false lead. 

Leaves an incessant sense
cloying and clawing 
against various walls 
tug tugging at the restraints. 

Gentle and less than gentle 
sessions of bondage 
lead to some form of release
into wanting to be captive. 

If one could tear off 
to completely condemn 
more than a day 
dropped from your calendar. 

Tear off something 
as if that is the one thing 
that gets in the way 
with that much faith. 

It goes on in that way 
an untold number of years
building up to destitute 
varieties of desperation. 

A new type of poverty 
that defies any measure 
in dollars and cents 
terms of ready reference. 

You cannot wash it away
and there is no one to pay off
to remove any resemblance 
that approximates any curse. 

Wanting to wash your face
completely away so you can 
put on a new one that appeals
to what you want in your life. 

There are peep shows 
inclusive of those you see 
in a bathroom mirror
making you look away. 

A persistent feeling 
it would be no use bowing
down to nothing but 
forged prayers of a chance. 

Is there really a way 
to buy yourself out 
or is that no more 
than an alternate death. 

Trying to improve the odds
pertaining to next morning 
and get something done
even if it is pointless. 

There are regular rituals 
ought to be completed 
according to times and methods
in an unholy book of hours.

Break the Psalter of routine 
brings penance and guilt
threats against any future 
but you break it anyway. 

Just for the hell of it 
and because you are bored 
with all those implications
as to what you never had. 

Night is always less lonely 
than the days ever are 
because at night we really 
can forget for a while. 

Everyone leaves 
whomever they love 
when they close their eyes
getting carried away. 

That is the river 
drifts to that other side 
of any pure get away 
leaving its wake. 

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

290822A
------------ 

If we only knew 
what to get rid of 
and what to keep 
as to no regrets. 

We look in a mirror
considering the nose
amid the angular pieces 
of a picasso face.

The ugly frame 
in a bizarre compact 
bedeviled by geometry
made disproportionate. 

Nothing seems right 
and perhaps it never was 
but being made to sit alone 
until that truth was realized. 

Secret fantasies as to what
it might actually feel 
to be moulded into a new shape 
one could actually like.  

No longer relegated 
into an amorphous category 
forever being bested 
from all sides. 

It is quite a stretch 
of wasted imagination
bearing the shallow roots
that carried confidence. 

Merely a trick 
lacking any sense of trade
and made to feel unwelcome
in any parlour. 

Finds no way left
to change or exchange
such unfortunate parts
as defined a history. 

Trade off the whole thing
being nothing much 
but another set of rags 
differently discarded. 

Making inconsequential 
or exaggerating 
whatever it once was 
that was small or large. 

Too small or too large
among similar oppositions
turned never right 
past the ever too soft. 

Never redeemable 
for lack of observances
as anything hard enough 
gone soft as a rotting core. 

That proverbial apple 
that terrifies of spoils 
endangering the whole 
destiny of entire barrels. 

It wasn't picked 
from way out on a limb
where the bough breaks
and the cradle falls. 

Throw it all away 
in a doomed attempt 
to start up entirely over 
going ground up and late. 

From rows of toenails 
all the way to replenishing 
hairstylists' incomes 
tops bared naked. 

Remember the mop heads
won over a whole nation 
way back in 1964
and it grew out from there. 

It isn't as simple 
as building strong bodies
twelve different ways 
and other similar deceits.  

Mother's little helper 
seemed innocent enough
but even that eventually 
got turned to guilty. 

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

290822B
------------

Wag of tongue 
then wonder why 
a complex of wordy 
bursts the stupid 
bubbles the silence
which was itself
something  better 
before Being 
and before Broken 
bumped together 
beer glass style
gone splatter froth
semi consciousness 
with some pretension 
past the remake 
make out something 
vaguely distracted 
into nothing much. 

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

300822A
------------ 

We used to have it 
within a wide spectrum 
coloured enjoyments 
but not much anymore. 

Now multicoloured money
has taken over 
our monochrome world 
to play your shadow puppet.

Punch and Judy 
still make out the same
into digital papers 
battling for peace. 

Secretly compensated 
for convincing others 
the high price of solitude 
is actually worth paying. 

Darkness upon the deep
anything there is 
and gorge those sins 
of the rich against the poor. 

Their frowns at anything 
lacks that high price tag 
to pay for the give and get
and pay for the in and out. 

It costs a world  
to get in and even more 
to get out again
but not have that much. 

As  above so below
street level and under 
scale model dollhouse
the ghetto trash replica. 

Behaviours consistent 
with stratas of belonging 
and most cold nothings 
of High School fossils. 

Sweet life sentences 
they never break out of 
replicating failed patterns
made more of the same. 

People with big hoards
won't do it now
and those without any
don't want to any how. 

A few lost souls 
caught out in the middle
where it never adds up 
to special enough. 

Easy to get ignored 
in the public ratings game
if you stand out 
face, word or name. 

You won't have fun
if you cannot pay off
each Mr. Big came along
to wants another cut. 

You can't have any 
and you will be punished 
for not having enough
to make anyone happy. 

Pay for the privilege 
fixates the gaze
centre of own 
at big bellied navel. 

Lower down your gaze 
because they don't like
that look in your eyes
being so deep and hungry.  

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