carrying a humongous ego*
is so heavy in weight
it's much like a fifty ton
load of lead freight
who in their right mind wants
to haul around a cargo this big
being encumbered by it
could easily sink the brig
an ego of enormous size
isn't worth the shoulder stress
so don't put yourself under
*such a burden of duress
Can't claw the
bugs from my skin.
The bullet I fired years ago has
come back around time to sever
the tightly fed tape that splays
my life over brick and stone.
Deja Vu. One step behind. I
can rarely find the words
you want to hear the most.
Patronize my heart, dear child,
for your sustenance. After all,
the bomb we dropped together
left the hungry world wanting
safety above all. Go for it. I
can't claw the bugs from my
itching skin, so bathe me in
The cloud is thickest at the edges
Lined with a hard coat
To keep out the world below
It hovers above
Afraid of what it sees
And each raindrop
Tries to writhe away
But it falls
And we drink it
Have its magic.
And it's a kingdom of sun
Of light inside
A misleading mist
It is most gentle at the centre
And go in to find
Your eye of the most wonderful
They fly on by
Tiptoeing over the mountains
Dancing over the cityscape
One day they will see the ocean
And one day so will I.
Supposedly a metaphor for hard journeys, the start and the finish are always the hardest, and the fear of failing is ever present.
Sometimes when I try to make a point with my poems the words just go crazy.
A taste of the future has come to my lips,
Sickly, but then, I asked for it
The droplets forsook me and went to my eyes
But nobody living has taken the sips
Like I have drunk deep of the pit
And the water was refreshing, to my surprise
I fortold the blessing, like a hand to the brow
I carried the scars, like lines on my face,
But ones that aged me more quickly
I heaved at the thought of the then and the now
My make up was dark, but light at the place
Where I applied it more thickly
So tell me the truth, all those from beyond
Explain the shadows under your eyes
I don't understand how you sink to your knees
A cowl of cold on me has been donned
It never could bring me to rise
For me and for life, we do as we please.
A little poem on life and its processes.
— The End —