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some seconds
sear and brand
creating Self

no matter drive
to carve new
persona

early stain
rears serpent
head

heel bruised
sets timer
ticking

his demise
rebellion has
a price

for trails mocked
to mountain top
pristine snow

rivers fuelled
brashly strong
diverted

birth
pathways
forged

straight to
waiting
sea
Whatever we have been handed at birth, and the vagaries of childhood and later, we have a choice to pursue a quest to re-create the Self to something better.  References are to the universal battle, reflected to some extent in our daily decisions, as per Gen 3:15 where the representative of Good is 'bruised in the heel,' and the personification of Evil awaits his final end, being 'bruised in the head.'  Only then will 'heaven and earth' unitedly attain its full relief of peace and happiness, along with true and enduring fulfillment.
 May 2019 David Noonan
Pax
poets
 May 2019 David Noonan
Pax
most of us are lonely
often our pools are too deep and
no one seem to bother swimming in our depths
perhaps it takes a skilled diver to understand
our inner core.

and because we feel too much
we drown ourselves in the pool of
sorrows, dying in self pity.
I say hanging from the hinge
of homelessness is the worst
sort of terror- try it (you
dipped your toes in once)
You say well everyone
has a door to open, to close
to keep the world at bay
(how quaint) I say
you have never been
without keys or a bed
or any old piece of floor
to rest your head
hmmph, well,
there was that time
you slept in a fountain
and all of Italy was yours
a plate to eat and yeah
you woke up wet and
sopping but you didn't
notice the rainbow
at your feet (did
you?) and
mother could always
find you and you could
always find her- at the end
of a Western Union while
your belly grumbled
for more screamed
for that sense of
entitlement YOU
REMIND ME OF A
BABY whining for
a new and clean place
to ****, white and full
of plenty but for
the one time you
rubbed shoulders
with reality, when
you ended up in a
decaying heap
you spent your short
life learning to skip
to throw a blind eye
to close your ears and
your nose when mother's
grasp let go for that one
terrifying moment
what did it feel like,
that slip into the gutter
of humanity's woes?
smells a lot like ****
(don't it?)
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