burnt

the first time I blushed
the second I blistered
the third left me scorched
as I turned to coal
burning long and ardent
leaving shapely ashes

though I may look
only discoloured
now the tiniest gesture
threatens to blow me away

seasonless

Look at the ends
to which we’ve gone
to run from our end
so much duller
than our beginning
At the end of the earth we sit
with fork and knife
each on the right side
still waiting to be served
We play parlour games
we’ve always played
to pass the time
as though nothing has changed
I wonder if this is how
one lives without seasons
with no change for which
to wait or plan
and if that changes
what one dreams of
or how one plays out
their last hand

rites of passage

First I was grudgingly acknowledged
An irritated
What do you want?
Then I was measured for potential
A surreptitious
What can I do for you?
Soon I was artfully respected
An opportunistic
May I be of service?
Now I’m being dutifully tolerated  
A saccharine
How are you today?
Soon I will be dismissed
A succinct
Will that be all?

remains

My ancestral vestiges
long burdensome removed
Organs whose function
was this body’s
sole undeniable purpose
are now vestiges in turn
This skin
clings and drapes
over the final work
Bones begin to protrude
proclaiming their rightful place
as the sole inheritors
of this existence
and the only thing that will remain

disenchanted

Come here, Love
We need to talk
My sight dimmed with years
is no longer dazzled
by your enchanting promises

We got on
well enough for a while
You spurred me to commit
to people and deeds
unfathomable
for someone so alone

But I’ve whetted my vision
on stone faced reality
And I now see you
for what you are
And what we have achieved

You used me
for your cause and purpose
Squeezed me
for all I could give
Yet the seeds
have sprung to life
and grow in spite
of our shortcomings

Now that you’re done with me
you’re settling into a construct
that needs more scaffolding
than I can build
with will and imagination alone
I’m tired of propping up
your faltering altar
and feeding the illusions
you thrive on
to keep me devoted
to a purpose
that has been served
Seems you’re tired too
of feeding my hunger
for more than you can give
with small insignificant
black and white choices
on every side
to bide the time
in a game that will unfold
with or without me

So let’s stop right here
and part as friends
Though we were never
more than king and pawn

getting there

jotNrot

Politics and the kids
are all we talk of now
(did we ever talk of anything else?)
You shake your graying head
Each time I’m not convinced
Our dreams behind us
shrivel
shuddering as we mock
what’s left of our ideals
We sure do know better now
I meet your pragmatism
with just a hint
of reluctant resignation
I’m only just learning
to act my age

View original post

afternoon

Those were the best years
There was time ahead
And the past had been laid to rest
Everything was growing up and richer
Making filled the hours and days
That ended in a swirl of warm blankets of pillow talk
to make the moment last
And now it’s just a story
I tell sitting around tables
to show my gratitude
Or hold up in contrast
to the years of decline ahead

wasted

We were all so beautiful
so fucking beautiful
so fucking unaware

only now
through our dimmed vision
pulling the folds aside
can we truly see

How wasted, how wasted
the time we spent
waiting for love to notice
As if waiting hard
would make spring come sooner
We should have danced through winter
Until we made our own heat
We should have shouted until hoarse
rather than singing
hushed in the shower
always preparing for the moment
that just wouldn’t come

God damn,
we were so fucking beautiful
and wasted

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