I stop looking into myself
Introspection in vain
for I am a hollow man
There is a spiral
of nothingness
pecked out by crows
How do I escape
this ebony heaviness
Folding myself further
into a pool of tar
is suicide by default
In the end
I am bored of the wollow
So I stretch myself
and look outside again
The light is unchangingly
there
and the fullness
is outside of me
Month: Apr 2022
We Can Have It All
The fortune teller
makes their living
on men’s curiosity
The weather man
makes their success
on men’s insecurity
Amazon Yesterday
makes its fortune
on men’s impatience
But when men build
the kingdom of God
which transcends time
and space
The Artist
Heaven plops
blobs of paint
on a quiet morning
like a canvas ready
to receive creation
The still lake
holds up the sky
like a verdant earth
props up the easel
The brush strokes
of the autumn wind
depicts a love story
for a daydreamer
to savour
Emotional Reasoning
Everything is spinning
out of control.
I rather be angry.
In that way,
at least,
I can do something
about whatever
that is eating me up.
The alternative
is sadness,
and that renders me
powerless.
It surely
will finish me.
Phase of Life
The realisation that I am getting old and tired comes from the cynicism. Many things once were adventurous and exciting, now are like chores.
Taking a walk in the light rain is overrated. Nursing a cold afterwards kills all romantic notion.
Love making on the beach is overrated. Dealing with cleaning the collected sand is a chore of the century.
Staying up to watch the midnight firework at a vantage point is overrated. Fighting a spot to lay on a picnic rug to wait for hours to watch the fireworks is time consuming and value inapt.
Real comfort now comes from resting a cuppa on my gut and watching true crimes in my pajamas.
