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  Nov 2018 Ian Lewis Copestick
v V v
When the blue green summers
of youth give way
to the golden falls of the aged and grey
its understood that death will call

but no one cares
no one at all

When sacred lives have slipped away
in morning's paper deaths displayed
as obits breathing final breaths
of those who left this world in death

Their storied bones are buried behind
the other news and hard to find
a legacy of 50 words
or less if less in life occurred

Like the simple things they did unheard

The times they stopped to lend a hand
The little things in life they planned
The times for Christ they took a stand
The only footprints in the sand

and no one noticed

no one at all

except God
I love the summer
But I have to say
I hate barbecue season
The loud conversations
The drunken laughter
And the smell of cooking,
Sausages and burgers
Floating through the window
The loud and cheesy
Dance/pop music
Assaulting my senses
As I sit here alone
With a single bottle
Of fortified wine
As the loud, drunken
Fools with their
Loud, manly laughter
Have countless crates and bottles
Ready to be consumed
Yes, I sit here alone
Always the outsider
Scribbling my lines
To console myself
With the idea of  " art "
As if it is important
Not to be
Part of the crowd,
When the truth is
I was never invited
it's the same as before
or the other time
or the time before that.
here's a ****
and here's a ****
and here's trouble.

only each time
you think
well now I've learned:
I'll let her do that
and I'll do this,
I no longer want it all,
just some comfort
and some ***
and only a minor

now I'm waiting again
and the years run thin.
I have my radio
and the kitchen walls
are yellow.
I keep dumping bottles
and listening
for footsteps.

I hope that death contains
less than this.
I've noticed as I grow older
And at 45 I am ******* old
I seem to be getting more resilient
Mentally, I bend
Where I used to crack
Things that 15 years ago
Would have destroyed me
Now I flick them off
Like an errant insect
That hassles me whilst I'm
Having a ****.
The more pain that you go through
You must gain a tolerance.
Now I laugh
When I used to cry
Now I just shrug
Where I used to ask why
It's just the way of the world
I tell myself.
Life is pain
Get over it or die
Suicide now seems
Like a bad joke
They have taken all that they can
What's left now is mine
Is happiness the right
Word for it ?
Or just nothing left to lose ?

I'm feeling better than
In a long time
If this is becoming
Middle aged
Then it's pretty
******* good
Am I getting washed up on the rocks
Heading into stormy waters
The white-tipped waves are giving me a shock
I should slow down, I know I ought to

Sailing too fast into the wind
With adrenaline I'm wired
My heart is racing, my eyes are pinned
My brain is getting tired

It's getting too much every day
Sailing upon the high seas
It's costing more than I can afford to pay
It's all getting too much for me

Am I getting washed up on the rocks
Heading into stormy waters
The white-tipped waves are giving me a shock
I should slow down, I know I ought to
  May 2018 Ian Lewis Copestick
But tonight
He will soothe my aching heart
And take up the empty space
On your side of the bed
Time crawls so slowly tonight
A Friday evening in the setting sun
Even at this time of my life
Surely I should be somewhere having fun
Not necessarily a drunken, drugged binge
Just socialising with my peers
My timidity makes me cringe
I sit here alone, except for my fears
45 years old and I've got nothing left
Just a long, slow, sad decline
Battling boredom whilst awaiting death
My life a burnt out relic of what once was  mine
I watch the clock's hands slowly turn
Waiting until it's time to sleep
A life-long loser, what have I learned ?
Nothing, and makes me want to weep
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