A question mark or two,
Or exclamation points
for feelings strong.
in quarterly paragraphs.
In June the chapter finds
It's natural end.
To attain the dénouement,
But edit? No. Once writ,
The die is cast.
Happy New Year!
When they come for me in the morning
They'll find naught but an empty shell.
Since this is my final journey
It's end will be heaven or hell.
I've played by the rules since the day I was born
And in truth I've got little to show.
But they claim that it's theirs, as opposed to my heirs'
They've offended my faith, don't you know.
In the promise of true independence.
That hard work is the key to success.
I've broken me back try' n to earn what I lack
What I've earned is a pile of regret.
For the dream has been turned into sawdust
Once burned bitter smoke and no more.
'Tis the bankers and lawyers, accountants and such
With their hands out have darkened my door
And feathered their nest with my sinews
Slaked their rough thirst with my blood
The faster I run to get into the sun
The longer my dark trail's become.
So I'll thank you to kindly take notice
That fairness ain't what it once was
We owe them a living and if we aren't giving
They'll take it away at a whack.
Our system's grown so convoluted
A simple man can't plot a course
A notice to pay at the end of the day
Is bureaucracy's only recourse.
When they come for me in the morning
They'll find naught but this empty shell
And the slug in my brain will have caused my last pain
As it blows me to heaven...or hell.
The impending holidays have had me a little blocked.....
This isn't my best, but it expresses some of the frustration I feel at this time of year.
If I offend my apologies....
Each sensation crowding in
The sounds, the smells, the sights.
A technicolor layer cake
More than a tad too bright.
The tree and decorations.
The cards the snow and fire
To sap my concentration
These and more conspire.
The holidays are wonderful
Festivities are grand
But they bring their own brand of stress
That gets way out of hand.
We all have expectations
We think we must fulfill
And come hell or high water
We'll fight to top that hill!
This frantic quest
To get it right
Despite the competition.
That very word, is at odds with
The spirit of the tradition.
Peace. On earth.
Goodwill. Toward men.
Not stress and competition.
By bittersweet epiphanies
We come to know our flaws.
The crazing of our porcelain,
The warping of our rails,
The static in our broadcast,
our small and epic fails.
They're triggered by a teacher
With a condescending tone,
The bully in the playground
The office or at home.
In the mirror that they offer
Darkly etched for all of time,
Gaunt and ugly, our reflection
Less our shattered paradigms.
Our response to that stark vision,
Tells our depth of character.
Do we learn and reassemble?
Do we prove the mirror wrong?
Or dissolve in dark regret?
adopt the Shadow's song?
There is one more epiphany
Unencumbered by the sweet.
Cleaving to the path of darkness
Beating light into retreat.
Mired in our dark reflection
When comes a child of light
Porcelain smooth and static free
we choose to act from spite.
And offer up the mirror...
With thanks to Loretta Leslie for suggested edits.
Dayjob frantic constant battle.
Hear me not you broken chord.
Striving in crowded seclusion
Blinders' focus goal employed.
Admin nightmare get it straight
Whirling eddies endless forms.
Makework breakwork pointless scraping
value added? Wry retort.
Grinding halt. Exhaustion.
I look up and see
Inspired by the poem Sing Me a Lullaby by Owen Habel Lwanda
Your verse is often hard on you
It speaks of faults and flaws.
I have no right and I won't ask
from whence this darkness comes.
Nor can I say that it's not there, for it is real to you.
Consider that the blackest night is welded to the dawn.
The one without the other is not Whole.
The black hole and the star are different aspects of the same
And should your fate be the abyss, you would not be alone.
Nocturnal realms would bask in brightest day.
Look through my eyes.