Google Groups no longer supports new Usenet posts or subscriptions. Historical content remains viewable.

Poems: 160522 - May 16th, 2022

Skip to first unread message

Robert Morpheal

May 16, 2022, 4:19:03 PM5/16/22

I came to you
as a Storm
to reshape and change
your landscape
of washing away.

Remaining there
as undergrowth
dense weeds
in gullies
cut by floods.

Something to hold on to
as fingertips slide off
into empty
on the far edge
of a mutual nothingness.

Such things are best
when forgotten
past the drowned out
in the river
that is flesh and words.

You could have searched
for a trace of me
before it was too late
but you never did
and so it did not matter.

I existed there once
in a future of never
illicitly gathering
various pieces of you
into my broken eyes.

On the embankment
at the same place
where we drowned
pushing and pulling
each other down.



You're too sane for me
but you can't see it
so you come on
and come on too strong.

I have to push you away
from getting too close
though I am a midnight
sense of lonely.

Atomic scientists
keeping drumbeat time
and I am running ahead
dead end on a race track.

If only I could find a way
to need nothing
other than loneliness
and being contented there.

I keep breaking off
patterns you keep making
while being an irregular
among regulars.

I only read about
the sort of life I wanted
but am unable to live
in failures of compromise.

I keep wanting
too much of everything
that you don't want
and not anything you have.

It bores me
same as a persistent nag
bores its victims
with endless impossibilities.

I am afraid I will die
completely unsatisfied
made malcontent
by contented people.



You were a part of it
as to the consortium
with their ever changing
articles and memberships
intent on denying me
any genuine enjoyment.

Eventually it wears thin
and the truth breaks through
creating ugly patches
same as scraped bare spots
that mar manicured lawns
and make legs look ugly.

We meander in among
the coloured lines
dodging heavy traffic
forever on the watch
for what was run down
by successions of dream boats.

Time has been spent
following empty leads
that take us to nowhere
and starting from over
over and over gain
in staccato successions.

Drum roll
after a comedian's spurt
leaves the room hanging
from one shared noose
hands mouse trapped
in each other's pockets.

The future is marked
to be shot down
both in very slow motion
and fast forward
creating a sharp recoil
that shatters the past.

There is always someone
more powerful than we are
to prevent us
from enjoying each other
and whatever is left
of histories of scarcity.



Petals of a flower
want to butterfly
winged flutter
avoiding dark bugs
trailer attitudes
foray obsessive hunts
along the bright dresses
billows of wind song
comes with weather
and other precautions.

More of the dead
killing off the dead
verge of bourbon dream
styled futility sounds
the same hollowed vibes
emptied word world
smashed pumpkin head
into vague impossibilities
snuffing wish candled
scorches of chatter brains.

Everyone cautious
at wilted margins
shrivelling away
down creases and folds
the sun crisped crumble
of how ever might
we ever could
meet someplace later
wherever sanity ends
and life really begins.

We never do
despite hearing about it
from unreliable sources
making another crush
stone's throw gesture
given tantalizing ideas
that we cannot run with
drifting over big top
sand dune burial
constellated stars.

Envy looks back
into communal dark
interrupted thoughts
turned flash card
image display pageant
could be any ancestry
enjoying its transgressions
in harmless gone forbid
mid today's corpse grove
post Chaplin Mod Times.

1984 and Big Bro
came and went
while we continued
routine condemned
for not walk the valley
of the shadow heaped
ritual self slaughter
vain attempted meaning
to prove our own
personal insignificance.

The totally insignificant
appearing freed
to unspeakable acts
contrived purely
for their self enjoyment
where all signs point
at missed out marginalia
noted pleasured principles
made more evident
in didactic print.

The instructions prove
impossible to follow
revised version updates
mismatched to components
gone obsolete longing
walks the habit circle
a never more crowd
scene blacked out
against urban blackscape
of isn't that anymore.



Mostly what is broken
stays broken
and scars accumulate
to your permanent record.

That is nothing more
than bird songs
interrupting morning
where the light creeps in.

Another ghost appears
in the continual misfortune
comes from having met
a long time ago.

Why do they haunt us
with the long gone
that never returns
as anything solid.

Is there any meaning
can be tacked on
pieces of note paper
fastened to absence.

Perhaps if no one ever met
there would be no ghosts
and only money and things
would continue the pattern.

The more definite losses
more easily cleansed
of anyone's idle speculations
as concerns fake histories.

To forget everything
is too difficult a task
but someone will trash us
trying to empty out.

Dig at the seedy core
with dull edged
coffee spoon scoop
bits of dark matters.

Inside besieged walls
we try to create
our defensible positions
for nostalgia and terror.



Bounced off
walls of diversion
where anything striking
is mere ricochet.

A glancing blow
marring an appearance
marked condescension
under projectile gaze.

Haven't a chance
at having chances
someone doesn't like
you not one of them.

It was very different
for lucky ones
differently wanted
always preserved.

Looked from under
impressions made footstep
crunched down
upon the dead watch.

You were the only one
left standing out
from multitudes
of whispered invites.

Everyone was there
who wanted you
feeling what it is like
been left out.

Sideways squint
tries to see
if you heard any
and flinched.

The many happy
witnesses to pain
you drum off
in poker faced recoil.

Best of times some
times worst of times
counted up whatever
ended all lost.

Same ever was
throes of childhood
amid thrived on
displays of suffering.

You don't get away
easily if ever
from a machine action
sends bloody hell.

Piercing shriek
perforating senses
leaving is no more
than admin detail.



I once knew of you
as a lovely dream
but reality ate it.

In another place
at another time
freely dreamt.

Now each demands
endless recompense
for cold regard.

Shall never make it
far as any stars
and love more distant.

Left for dead
in a turn away scold
discarded moment.

Derelict wrap
cuts action sequences
with editorial chops.

String tied
in butcher paper
limits of kindness.

Something tender
and bloodied
that sears easily.

Detailed malfunctions
dragged over coals
dispossessed and disposed.

Pain opens the pores
weeping out
mental excretions.

Chemistry of despair
where everything reacts
or is nothing at all.

Signs of skull monkeys
operating successions
of meat puppets.

A dance of bones
after each battle
is won and lost.


0 new messages