Poems: 300423 - April 30th, 2023

240423A
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The type of morning 
within the classification system
as to the types of mornings
and awaken to a feeling 
so extremely sad 
that you only want to cry 
not having any idea why. 

It has failed to conform 
to any actual clinical criteria
so you keep it to yourself 
among all the other secrets 
that are most of what passes
as definitive of your existence
between exclamatory assertions.

Particularly the sort that defy you
and prevent going back to sleep
where there was something left 
of what seemed comfortable 
and almost feeling natural 
compared to so very out of place
and socially awkward. 

Interspersing behaviour patterns
that try not to look too suspicious
in the prevailing climate 
of increasing oppression 
that passes as the slash pendulums 
that come with political change 
sliding across your little pit. 

You awakened from a dream
that was as alright as any
into a world that never is 
but that is only a part of it
because it usually happens 
as to the reality and meaning 
of any sort of awakening.

You would rather go on sleeping 
instead of conforming 
in those austere and severe ways 
that make some popular 
as dilettante bits of smirch 
rather than being erased completely 
after being made a spectacle. 

The only crowds you ever know
are the usual sort of crowds
that show up to anticipate the fall
of a tightrope walker 
starved by the length of the wire
and continually terrorized 
by the shortness of life.

Then again it is not any of that 
buttery mass from the churning 
labelled as over think 
getting in the way of muscled 
build ups of mass attractions 
from which you are the wayward 
secretly broken thing. 

Something has happened 
and you do not know what it is
but you might never know 
what it was or might really be
because it is simply that feeling
sometimes comes with awakening 
to something far less than a dream. 

You wish you really could 
live your very own dream 
the way those others live theirs 
but it is never that simple or clear 
as to what will come to you 
when you go your own way 
because you are not of that crowd. 

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240423B
----------- 

Life is mostly the never found
of the reasonably thought of 
in the spaces that are in between 
what is missing between spaces 
where we fill something in 
to take the place of any longings 
in chanced and make do ways. 

Habitually referring to emptiness
as being something more full 
and denying anything being empty
in our having become victims 
to that ongoing war on discontent 
where everyone is to play a part
in another perpetual war effort. 

Maybe I do dream of you 
and maybe you do dream of me
in that place of never meet 
being dreams of the never know 
outside the difficult boundaries 
separating one reality from the others 
in the constant of mix ups. 

It is a fact I never met anyone 
that I ever imagined actually meeting
in any of those situations 
that I would have liked to meet in 
and all my attempts were cancelled
as to finding or creating the scenery 
for any such act on any such stage. 

How the theatre of the absurd begins
in too many usual and common ways
doing what makes no real sense 
as if it has a much larger significance 
and trying to convince ourselves 
that the routine gestures are important 
to having some sort of future. 

Too late when we finally discover 
that it is never really that way 
and that perhaps we really were 
under the spell of an evil magician 
in the course of all those attempts 
to defeat an unbeatable futility
at games where no one ever wins. 

Eventually to make the discovery 
as to that other ugly truth 
that there is no actual future 
unless one is willing to believe 
and to live the lie of a future 
some evil genius constructed 
for one to slide straight into. 

Even the scoreboards are all lies 
designed to keep you playing 
because it uses up time and energy
for which there is no other use 
and if you think you are winning 
it is never any sort of real prize 
that actually lured you to try for it. 

The experience that you get 
is never the experience that you want 
no matter which way you turn it 
something revises the plot 
and the sequence gets cut 
leaving you with what was in mind
as limited as outtakes.

You  become discarded splices
dropped to the cutting room floor 
turned into shambles of moments
that could never be played out
because you were blocked access 
to that part of the reality matrix 
where other fictions actually live. 

They are living on that plot line 
that you auditioned for 
but you never got the part 
and your demo reel never chanced 
to be able to include any bits 
demonstrating what is wanted 
but you know it once was. 

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

240423C
----------- 

The idea of going somewhere 
has its illusory continued appeal 
despite a long litany of experience 
that accurately predicts the same 
degree of perpetual disappointments. 

The problems of time and space 
being magnified so very large 
while the gods play dice games 
that make for infinite combinations
excepting any that are really wanted. 

It does not matter what you want 
because the tease is always the same 
as to the highs and the lows of it all
in the gone under and over ways 
that it always tends to work out. 

You can work at it forever and more
to getting nowhere at all 
because working at it is never enough
and you are always left to needing
whatever you do not have. 

Something is always missing 
and even if you know what it is 
it does not matter a tiny tinker's damn
in the habitual trends of over think 
between the really know and the not. 

We go that way perhaps until gone 
and no one can ever really win 
at any of the numbers games 
but some make believe and pretend 
to make it seem alright in the end. 

The statistics of experience convince us
that we do not really count as anything 
to anyone we might have wanted 
to count us in and in any such ways 
that we would have appreciated. 

We will always end up at something 
quite different and sometimes it is 
actually a passably good time 
in the ways that time passes in places 
that we try to make more comfortable. 

Then realizing there is no real chance 
that we will ever be experienced 
as an old song becomes a private lament
about the absurd things we could do 
compared to the things we could not do. 

It has nothing whatever to do with trying 
is the other rule that defies our acceptance 
but you can try all that you like 
to get to the same sort of nowhere 
and nothing really to do with it. 

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240423D
----------- 

We sometimes linger in that memory 
of how it was to climb up 
only to slide down again 
fearing where feet thud against earth. 

And sometimes we begin to wonder 
about the impossible way up 
but wanting to get to somewhere 
to slide down into the comfortable. 

As if someone desirable might be there 
down at the bottom of the slide 
who might actually catch us
rather than hard cold rutted out earth. 

The feeling that there is no one up there
on that cruel lonely climb up that tower 
toward that sky that is the limit 
and always feeling the same pull down. 

As if there is somewhere to go 
when you actually get there 
where there is that someone 
you always wanted to know. 

When you get there you find 
they only want to play with you 
but it is never your game 
that they are willing to play. 

You had to be there much sooner
and had to stay there much longer
but that is never the case 
as that also costs far too much. 

So you scramble to the top again 
and then you slide down 
until it becomes a routine thing 
and all the thrill is gone. 

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

280423A
----------- 

Searching for those clues 
for solving an ultimate mystery
without knowing anything 
as to what the mystery really is. 

Or why it is is worth solving 
but you have to do something 
and you are given that to do
even if nothing else. 

So you are given to pretending
it is that one deep mystery 
that you always wanted to solve
even if it is not anything really. 

You can go on like that 
and sometimes people believe you
paying their respects 
to the poorest of choices. 

They are as quick to ignore 
what you thought any better of 
and they never really want you 
where you wanted to be wanted. 

They never really want you 
how you wanted to be wanted 
and they want some other thing 
that they imagine you could be. 

You feel you need someone 
but you feel weary of them all
playing you for the fool
that you have to pretend to be. 

You do not know what to let go
when there is nothing else 
to really hold on to
and time is always running out. 

It was never really last time 
and it is never really this time 
but everyone has their deep mystery
that is different from yours. 

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

280423B
----------- 

Maybe there was more to it
but something was taken away 
and you can never really know
what that might have been. 

You never have what it takes 
and what you have is not wanted
within the shifting probabilities 
that make up randomized lives. 

It becomes the same bad luck 
even when it is something different
and the only thing left to do 
is those similar sorts of mistakes. 

You move on down the line 
to where you will not be recognized
in any more embarrassing ways 
as to the usual fetch and carry crowds. 

There is only some more depletion 
where you were not already deleted
from the usual lists of names 
that are only there to be ignored. 

Where did all your chances go 
along the long hither and thither 
always hoped for the better 
but that was never what came. 

They always said it was so easy 
but actually it proved too difficult
to die to so much in so many ways
for what you never really get.  

You cannot get there from here 
is the way that map tends to read 
and you feel you should give up
trying to go anywhere at all. 

There is no point getting out there
to all those contrary outcomes 
and the pointless conversations 
that are a scratch from the roster. 

It is only another circle game 
knowing it is none of your business
and it never really was 
more than someone's dirty scheme. 

You are always out of your place 
but you can never be in it again
to your own or anyone's satisfaction
in how everything is arranged. 

If you cannot own it yourself
life proves there is no point 
and someone always takes away
what you never actually had. 

There is really no way out 
of the sort of bind you are in
where the end is the beginning
and the beginning is the end. 

You made the usual errors 
of trying to start and start again 
until it all got worn out 
wearing you out with it. 

You will not find it anymore 
because they stopped making them 
at least stopped making them that way
and none of the replacements fit. 

You become nostalgic 
about the appeal of bits of history
that moderns neither live nor practice 
but that does not appeal to you at all. 

You could throw it all away 
because some of it meant too much
and you hoped for better 
than left at nothing to anyone else. 

What is the matter now 
that was not the same matter before
but you hardly really know 
what the matter always is. 

Seems everyone has gone on 
and all you want to do is to retreat 
to somewhere before your own time 
rather than the way that it is. 

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

280423C
----------- 

We wear ourselves down 
in the go around habits 
that secretly look for whatever
we never really find. 

In cities full of such places 
and I too used to sit by the window
waiting for I never knew what
that never really arrived. 

It is that difficult sometimes 
and the white light is too painful 
because it is not really anything 
as to any part of any spectrum. 

That huge blur into nothing 
and in particular nothing for you 
as to that white light haze 
that covers over everything same. 

I never sit there anymore 
and I no longer know anywhere
where I can take that sort of pain
in those sorts of common doses. 

I hear of various remedies to that 
but do not know the right people 
and somehow missed out 
on any of those invitations. 

More of those same words
that I do not need or want to hear
having nothing to do with me 
and some other's lucky charms. 

I do not know anywhere anymore
where it is anything different 
and eventually one abandons 
any such indefensible stand. 

That sort of siege without relief 
and another waitress comes along
responding to an order
while gathering up the emptiness. 

I was only there to meet someone
but they never actually arrived 
and that seems to be how it is
as to how that game is now played. 

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280423D
----------- 

Public invites that do not interest
feel like they are paper cuts 
sliding across the eyes 
leaving slits of historical vision 
as to what did not work out. 

Another sort of snow blindness 
blinding the eyes with unspeakable 
and more ordinary sorts of longings 
railing against the white spaces
that offer no real and true openings. 

It is all completely closed up 
despite those sparse instances 
where you can walk in 
and you can look around 
in the process of finding out. 

There used to be something there 
where there is nothing anymore 
and the history of what was there 
has become too difficult to endure
as anything but more erasures.

A blanked out sort of sensibility 
that offers no further details 
except no one does that anymore 
and we are made the losers 
put out into an ordinary misery. 

Nothing noteworthy in that 
except a feeling of going somewhere
that no longer actually exists 
to be left to feeling totally vacant 
right down deep and all inside. 

You find you were replaced 
in every other sort of life
by someone or something other
but you can never really replace 
what you lost or never had. 

That makes you  very special 
in the most extraordinary ways
left to sifting strayed impressions
that all amount to nothing 
as they were never meant for you. 

Never really meant for you 
but you imagined a feeling
and you added in your meaning 
to what was never really there 
in the battle against nothingness. 

You are never actually the being 
that you could ever want to be 
leaves you the odd one feeling out
on the fringes of a scene 
that you can never get to play. 

Someone else got all the parts 
and there was no place left for you 
in that or any other script 
that you could ever want to play 
so you get ushered out. 

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280423E
----------- 

I have seen the countryside 
stretching for what seems forever 
bright of the early of Spring 
and the blossoming of everything 
except for my own life 
which is urged to give up 
on such futile journeys being born
from what they cannot find. 

Patience has fallen away now 
same as the petals of blossom trees
torn away and dropped in abandon
in all the making of so restless 
conditions of abandonment 
tumble shack structures 
falling in on their lonely standing 
ground that is passed over and lost.

Being an ever more restless creature
that most would do well to avoid 
far from any such need 
and further from ordinary desires
having nothing truly in common 
as to how those would pass time 
making sense of that senselessness
in an undisturbed contentment.  

If there was somewhere to stop 
that would have made any difference 
I never knew of it anywhere 
and it was only a passing through
your world of smiles and strangers 
where there is nothing to stop for
along that hopeless form of pursuit 
that cannot pursue anything. 

Capturing it as faithfully as possible
the way that a captain makes entries 
into a daily journal of progress 
but with no such specific aims
and never really knowing the port 
where I might choose to tie and berth 
for anything that is a semblance 
to passing as pleasant shore leave. 

I never found and do not know any
as to that sort of ordinary living 
in ghosting a way across haunts
along your far and distant horizons
knowing no real understanding 
anymore than being condemned 
to strangely different languages 
garbling up any real intimacy. 

I no longer really understand you 
and you no longer understand me 
in your never having felt anything 
of my sorts of loneliness 
made lonelier by your pastimes 
where I can only be an onlooker 
on the verge of every estrangement 
to your lines of usual business. 

There proved to be nothing for me
and no one to really share it with 
in all those constraints being imposed
on imaginary realms of possibilities 
whether reasonable or not 
within any larger schemes of things 
beyond the more typical manifests 
of tawdry sorts of usual commerce 

Perhaps I was left to wanting 
for what no one else really wants
and no matter what that really is 
because it is all the very same 
and so I watch the blossoms 
burnt to brown in the sunlight 
dropping their white dresses 
to brown earth beneath. 

It seems too late for that too 
and I cannot imagine anymore 
how to really feel free anymore 
apart from the usual tragedies 
that seek to always take away 
what has never yet been given 
except as something imaginary
as if in some far too distant place. 

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