Posts Tagged ‘Sadness’

I see you,
I see what you’re doing darling,
What you’re intending,
The voracious hunger behind your pupils,
But not for me,
Nay,
But for what I can provide,

You let the mask slip a pinch,
Your words were unsalted butter,
Melting into my hungry ears,
Sustaining yet unhealthy,
Offering that which you had no intention of giving,
An out-splayed hand snapped away,
Toying with me like a yoyo,

You’d ask me for this,
You’d request that,
You’d see me a husk,
Spent and emaciated,
And yet order a stone from atop Olympus,
A pearl from the Mariana trench,
It’d never be enough,

You used me,
But no more,
I see you now.

Each morning brings an uneasiness,
A longing fear of peering into that mirror,
And seeing that misshapen carcass,
Like a portal to a world of monsters,
A bogeyman on CCTV,

I see myself,
But is that miscreation truly me?
This is no abstract,
But a very real abomination,
A brown haired accident,

Each glimpse at the mirror,
Is fingernails on chalk,
The portal remains open,
Blue eyes like the abyss scowl back,
A hide blemished and spotty,

That foul visage still watches from the glass,
The other me,
The me I wish I wasn’t,
And I avert my eyes,
Dreading the next time I see that mirror,

The reflection smirks.

So our council of folly,
The hollow authority of our isle,
Open their mouths wide again for our daily rice,
Drenched in the sweat of labourers and nurses,
Taken as if it is their sacred right,
Our gratitude for their incompetence,

This old island is sick,
A blue scourge holds dominion,
Riddled with deaf worm-like things in suits,
With brown envelopes enveloped into their forms,
Finances put to foolish and wanton projects,
Folks held to ransom by foul ferrymen,

We weep at the tax office and county hall,
But those councilmen run out the back door cackling,
If the white cliffs begin to crumble,
And the foundations of our island splinter,
Will they still accept our sweat as thanks?

Life is a long dusty road,
We all know it in our being,
It is a foregone conclusion,
Built to test and vex,
Winding and windswept,
But it’s a road of jagged nails,
Bent and mismatched by travelers before you,
Karmic spiderwebs and societal roadblocks,

We walk it in agony,
Our boots split and feet skewered,
Each step forcing out more moans of pain,
Yet we march on,
With a pace set by our heartbeats,
Ashen-faced yet galvanized,
This serrated path cannot stop us though,
Nothing can stop us,

The end of this road is a cruel joke to some,
Our reward for our torment,
I fear there is naught but a red sun,
And a doting incinerator at the end,
Yet we march on,
Life trundles on,
Nails cannot break our spirits.

There will come a dark day,
As the candles grow delicate,
And your body finally feels lifes gravity,
When you must solemnly discuss,
With your kin and comrades,
About which kind of death you wish,
Ordained is the schedule,
But not so the modus operandi,

Do you run and yell impotently?
And be torn from the mortal coil by scythes force?
Do you have your time stolen by plague or happenstance?
And need to be carried beyond the styx by lifeless hands?
Or do you meet him calmly at your windowpane,
Take his cold hand and expire to the night?
These things must be prepared for,
Death is always approaching,

But will it be as a nightmare or old friend?
An ordeal or a release?

Every day I seem to witness,
With drawn eyes,
News stories that make me seethe,
Built-in inequality,
Bankers in the slaughterhouses of Wall Street,
Political duplicity,

Impotent old men upon the beaches of society,
Building sandcastles in imperial styles,
Houses of cards,
With sands of ground-up people,
Little voters at the bottom of the ladder,
Each spadeful shrieks in dissent,

The sands mount tall,
Kept strong on designs of grim architects,
The castles are patted down with manifesto lies,
The old men cheer as they rise,
When will the tide come,
And tear these foul empires down?

A continuation of sorts of ‘Kabuto’.

Kneeling by myself,
I meditate in the morning rays,
The scent of last nights sake still on my lips,
Glancing to the floor before me,
I sight my trusty blade coated,
Each blood drip whispered of victory,

Strewn around me eviscerated are demons,
Negative oni,
They beset me in the twilight,
With claw and cynical words,
Unaware of my training,
I follow bushido now,

My new virtues are my strength,
And my katana follows suit,
Loyalty fell duplicity,
Honesty decapitated corruption,
Compassion cut down cruelty,
Courage disemboweled anxiety,

Once the deed was done,
I reflected upon my newfound ethics,
My positive armour and virtuous kenjutsu,
Evil will no longer bring me to my knees,
I’m a warrior now,
A samurai.

I’ve been traversing this rocky road for eons,
Strewn with the dirt of life choices,
And stones of detritus from those same choices,
Cane in gloved hand,
Occasionally with a travel compatriot,
Often alone,

Along the stones,

Many of these travellers walk hand-in-hand with me,
Sharing grand times and raised-hand toasts,
Becoming lovers and allies and mentors,
Others have kicked me in the shins,
Robbing me of every positive emotion I dare felt,
Leaving me lamenting by the side of the road,

Along the stones,

Each step taken is a year,
I may stumble at times,
Sprint at others,
But I am bound to this endless trail regardless,
Like a train tied to a track,
A slave to time unending,

Along the worn stones.

I have become a hollow man,
Cracked porcelain,
Empty inside,
With no signs of smiles,
Since my best friend became obscured,
Through my own foolish artifice,

Without your voice,
My mind has nothing to chew on,
Without your saintly cuddles,
The world is a frightful place,
Without your rainbow hair and honest smile,
My eyes simply cannot light up,

I am an empty vase,
Fractured with its contents leaked,
Only my best friend has the glue,
And the deft touch,
To put me back together,
And fill me up once again.

Am I really human?
Even a person?
I often feel out of place,
Feeling like an alien,
Like a mimic,
A puppet made to resemble a man,
But still somewhat off,
Purely in the uncanny valley,

Impersonating what a human should do,
Imagining narrow-eyed looks from passers-by,
I do what I think normal people do,
Without truly understanding why,
Badly copying fashions of others,
Fraudulently trying to fit in,
When everybody laughs,
I join in perhaps a beat or two late,

If mankind were a puzzle,
My piece is curiously askew.