Poems: 300822 - August 30th, 2022

[Robert Morpheal]

260822A
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The day melted away
feathered wing flutter
turned grey ashes.

A million things to do
and not one of them
seems rationally sensible.

Most of them will remain
at various points on a list
to invoke a usual guilt.

The measure of value
no longer adding up
in balance with desire.

A battle between darkness
and heaped up chores
gains and loses ground.

Busy people are happy
people reminiscent
as to Hitler's big lie.

Long freight train chugs
straining at its load
of should and ought to.

Nothing satisfying
in the current burdens
demands to being carried.

It is never the load
we ever wanted
but it is chance to get.

A long stretched along
short roads contemplate
hidden dead ends.

The when and where
comes up an entirety
set up against it.

Imaginary punishments
inflict themselves
on the gullible minded.

Nothing personal
and did you have to
make it that difficult.

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260822B
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All your life it was
about taking chances
but it all boils down
to the chances
you did not get
and could not take.

Those are the ones
that will be your torment
given to imagine
what might have been
for you to miss out on
amid other regrets.

Fear the encore
that is more tragic
than what brought you
to a time and place
having nothing to do
with choosing.

Nothing to do
but plenty of stupid things
keeping you busied at
meanings removed
the way tags are pulled
from yesterday's bargains.

A day of everything
needs to mending
with nothing in you
to raise a rusting hammer
against bent nails
fixing anything up.

Sticks out in a crowd
as the sore thumb
been hard hit on
into reluctance throbs
under mental bandage
smile greetings.

They keep telling you
you are dying
by your own hand
but you know full well
it is without any intent
at such bitter endings.

Rumours of the lucky
make it far worse
in take aways of desire
at the hang arounds
with what was left
beyond any reckoning.

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260822C
------------

Conspiracies of madness
cover wastelands
up behind the spent.

Wearers of talismans
signifying luck
never really had.

We all fall down
husha husha holes
to can't climb out of.

Find something to do
and don't ever bother
anywhere or anyone.

Told you don't need
anyone and don't know
what you need.

Time is a passage
someone entered in
to the eternal record.

It all goes down
a failed transition
between terminations.

That tiny crack
that chasms its scream
into permanent ink.

A Humpty Dumpty
syndicated syndrome keeps
the king's men laughing.

Deep down the well
tossed with the garbage
and the feelings.

Grog save the king
says jolly red roger
and none were left alive.

Hey diddle diddle
every cat has a fiddle
but no notes to play.

A generation of postmen
made to give up the word
in this era of self images.

The big mistake
not remembering
humans are dangerous.

It was run rabbit run
and this little piggy
all the way home.

Knowing the markets
is not for everyone
and you can't advertise.

No way to true love
in any of the want ad
top ten sexes for hire.

That is the going
slide down far side
curve balls of smiles.

You feel a sharp cut
as the rush turns hard
then goes away.

You keep doing it
in hopes of pursued
by an other's happiness.

There goes all yours
made unfortunate mascot
to the wrong team.

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260822D
------------

It is always the same
as to those awful things
that made you
most of what you became.

Nothing nice to say
about any of that
but it tends to prove
your parents were nicer.

You could hide there
from the monster
and they would never know
what you were hiding from.

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280822A
------------

Given to those fears
as to what will go wrong
ticked off as next
on another secret list.

There are intimations
among false promises
but all anticipation
is always the false lead.

Leaves an incessant sense
cloying and clawing
against various walls
tug tugging at the restraints.

Gentle and less than gentle
sessions of bondage
lead to some form of release
into wanting to be captive.

If one could tear off
to completely condemn
more than a day
dropped from your calendar.

Tear off something
as if that is the one thing
that gets in the way
with that much faith.

It goes on in that way
an untold number of years
building up to destitute
varieties of desperation.

A new type of poverty
that defies any measure
in dollars and cents
terms of ready reference.

You cannot wash it away
and there is no one to pay off
to remove any resemblance
that approximates any curse.

Wanting to wash your face
completely away so you can
put on a new one that appeals
to what you want in your life.

There are peep shows
inclusive of those you see
in a bathroom mirror
making you look away.

A persistent feeling
it would be no use bowing
down to nothing but
forged prayers of a chance.

Is there really a way
to buy yourself out
or is that no more
than an alternate death.

Trying to improve the odds
pertaining to next morning
and get something done
even if it is pointless.

There are regular rituals
ought to be completed
according to times and methods
in an unholy book of hours.

Break the Psalter of routine
brings penance and guilt
threats against any future
but you break it anyway.

Just for the hell of it
and because you are bored
with all those implications
as to what you never had.

Night is always less lonely
than the days ever are
because at night we really
can forget for a while.

Everyone leaves
whomever they love
when they close their eyes
getting carried away.

That is the river
drifts to that other side
of any pure get away
leaving its wake.

---------------------

290822A
------------

If we only knew
what to get rid of
and what to keep
as to no regrets.

We look in a mirror
considering the nose
amid the angular pieces
of a picasso face.

The ugly frame
in a bizarre compact
bedeviled by geometry
made disproportionate.

Nothing seems right
and perhaps it never was
but being made to sit alone
until that truth was realized.

Secret fantasies as to what
it might actually feel
to be moulded into a new shape
one could actually like.

No longer relegated
into an amorphous category
forever being bested
from all sides.

It is quite a stretch
of wasted imagination
bearing the shallow roots
that carried confidence.

Merely a trick
lacking any sense of trade
and made to feel unwelcome
in any parlour.

Finds no way left
to change or exchange
such unfortunate parts
as defined a history.

Trade off the whole thing
being nothing much
but another set of rags
differently discarded.

Making inconsequential
or exaggerating
whatever it once was
that was small or large.

Too small or too large
among similar oppositions
turned never right
past the ever too soft.

Never redeemable
for lack of observances
as anything hard enough
gone soft as a rotting core.

That proverbial apple
that terrifies of spoils
endangering the whole
destiny of entire barrels.

It wasn't picked
from way out on a limb
where the bough breaks
and the cradle falls.

Throw it all away
in a doomed attempt
to start up entirely over
going ground up and late.

From rows of toenails
all the way to replenishing
hairstylists' incomes
tops bared naked.

Remember the mop heads
won over a whole nation
way back in 1964
and it grew out from there.

It isn't as simple
as building strong bodies
twelve different ways
and other similar deceits.

Mother's little helper
seemed innocent enough
but even that eventually
got turned to guilty.

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290822B
------------

Wag of tongue
then wonder why
a complex of wordy
bursts the stupid
bubbles the silence
which was itself
something better
before Being
and before Broken
bumped together
beer glass style
gone splatter froth
semi consciousness
with some pretension
past the remake
make out something
vaguely distracted
into nothing much.

-----------------------

300822A
------------

We used to have it
within a wide spectrum
coloured enjoyments
but not much anymore.

Now multicoloured money
has taken over
our monochrome world
to play your shadow puppet.

Punch and Judy
still make out the same
into digital papers
battling for peace.

Secretly compensated
for convincing others
the high price of solitude
is actually worth paying.

Darkness upon the deep
anything there is
and gorge those sins
of the rich against the poor.

Their frowns at anything
lacks that high price tag
to pay for the give and get
and pay for the in and out.

It costs a world
to get in and even more
to get out again
but not have that much.

As above so below
street level and under
scale model dollhouse
the ghetto trash replica.

Behaviours consistent
with stratas of belonging
and most cold nothings
of High School fossils.

Sweet life sentences
they never break out of
replicating failed patterns
made more of the same.

People with big hoards
won't do it now
and those without any
don't want to any how.

A few lost souls
caught out in the middle
where it never adds up
to special enough.

Easy to get ignored
in the public ratings game
if you stand out
face, word or name.

You won't have fun
if you cannot pay off
each Mr. Big came along
to wants another cut.

You can't have any
and you will be punished
for not having enough
to make anyone happy.

Pay for the privilege
fixates the gaze
centre of own
at big bellied navel.

Lower down your gaze
because they don't like
that look in your eyes
being so deep and hungry.

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