Poems: 210521 - May 21st, 2021

[Robert Morpheal]

090521A

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Was looking forward 

to the warm season

but now 

not really sure.

Not really sure

about anything 

and much of that 

was always uncertain. 

Always more 

of the ice queens 

on the dark side 

of anyone's thaw. 

I have no interest 

in the ice kings

but they are out there

somewhere. 

Someone is plotting 

your get away 

to some of the same 

boring destinations. 

No one really melts 

to anything anymore 

but some still talk

about melting. 

Some are stood up 

and some are 

simply not held

in good standing. 

No one really wants

to be held anymore

most still trying

to make bail. 

No one holds on 

the way they used to

to anything 

that we could afford. 

The fall out drifts

the same old way

as cloudy concentrate 

into any other subject. 

It gets all mixed up 

into rumours 

streaming chemtrail 

and other similar stuff.

Something more 

to argue about 

so as to create a distaste 

for not being alone.  

It doesn't get better

than it used to be 

and that wasn't 

very good. 

Multitudes trade 

what they have got 

for whatever they are

and supposed to have. 

Same old square dance

magazines in motion

with same old callers

calling the new shots. 

Swallow it down 

as another little dose 

of devil may care 

and piss on it humour. 

The centrefolds 

of how we all fall down

into simply wrong

colour schemes. 

We lost the right 

to really believe 

in anything much more

than seasonal sales. 

We could outfit 

another expedition 

up into a crammed attic

of last year's styles. 

That is what they offer

to each and every 

certain to be broken 

porcelain heart.  

We can drop ourselves

before being dropped

then buy something 

as a consolation. 

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

 

110521A

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

Philosophical whitewash 

painted over 

those ugly cosmic fences. 

Tom and Huck 

want to fly 

on brushes with death. 

Cover over 

whatever shows through 

might be anyone's truth. 

There are traces 

of everything you lost 

\carved into your eyes.

Initials of someone 

whose face you forgot 

and whose name 

never came up again. 

Nothing much more 

than superficial personals

hiding common cravings. 

You don't really get 

anything further than that

past the funny papers.

There isn't much 

and there is less all the time

about the way it goes. 

Dreaming it up 

at the far out end 

of the never was. 

It seems more real 

but that is exactly what 

makes it so phony. 

The lure of the surreal 

was never anything 

to take too personally. 

There is more truth 

in those little psychodramas 

falling into bad company. 

Doing the two step 

into doubled over 

at the fence and fold. 

The sheep all have grins 

painted on them 

using spray paint stencils. 

Banksy is so big now

that he can paint faces 

onto entire crowds. 

Every last one of them

almost the same 

except for the angle. 

Everything is spray 

from a different angle 

when it comes to belief. 

It feels like someone 

was busy rearranging 

all of our secrets.

No real point left 

trying to keep any

from the disinterested. 

No one is interested

in anything anymore 

but locks changed on doors. 

No one responded 

and everyone claimed 

something better to do. 

Mostly secretly terrified 

of being seen out 

with any sort of controversy. 

Doing the same 

illuminations of nothing

along the same margins. 

We read new things 

that meant something 

long ago. 

----------------------------- 

180521A

----------- 

There are words 

we don't use anymore

because they have changed

into being too difficult. 

They are something worse

then the people 

who have changed 

into being too difficult. 

Putting it into words

has become more difficult

in the ever more difficult

use of difficult languages. 

We ease the words out 

from our vocabularies

before they arouse

any more problems.

They hang on the tongue

in a predatory manner

of beasts hanging on 

to squirming prey. 

Once innocent words

have been discovered 

as being highly predatory

and are being black listed. 

We try to shake them off

without uttering 

the tiniest little sound 

that they might make. 

Someone might hear 

that sound 

and then there would be

big trouble. 

Such words travel 

in stray packs 

looking for victims

to bring down. 

They consume 

entire lives 

and leave behind 

the empty cores.

Feral words 

we don't use anymore

because of something 

they will eat up. 

-------------------- 

200521A

------------ 

We no longer know

where or how 

to look. 

We are the bad luck

broken mirror

shattered pieces. 

The pieces of us 

once looked in on

that once looked good. 

What colour

is your mirror 

staring at yourself. 

Hazed over 

and sharp edged 

it all reflects. 

We don't look 

the way we did

on any surface. 

The beam of light

we projected 

is fractured. 

White streamers 

into the glare 

of a blackout. 

Trying to reach 

something to celebrate

in a heat of candles. 

We don't see 

anyone or anything

that we expected. 

Blame for that 

falls on the light 

having changed. 

Names are semaphore

blinked out 

onto empty oceans. 

Maybe someone 

will walk out 

of a lightless void. 

We could ask 

for something like that

from traditional menus.

There is that persistence

of popular desires 

for illusions of salvation. 

Part of the cliches 

that bulk up 

most of entertainment. 

No taste for it

we flicker threats

about going out.

 

Signal lanterns 

sending the flash 

of wrong signals. 

Easily startled 

by what is now wrong

that used to be right.

Closed eyes 

in morning rituals

afraid to look out. 

We are the cuts 

others made 

slashing at the dark. 

Not one of them

ever got through 

that much darkness. 

We tried so hard 

to open something 

up to the light. 

The light 

never came in 

to any such opening. 

Hiding in the dark 

we become afraid

of looking again. 

--------------------- 

210521A

------------ 

Maybe it is too late

to do anything 

more than dream 

the unwelcome dreams

about the nothings 

that it was never about. 

I am only an illusion 

constructed from a lack

of any real concerns 

other than delivery receipts

for the packages 

that get sent back. 

Forget the approvals 

and drop the polite nods

because it all comes down

to curious monkeys 

making certain 

nothing much comes of it. 

You were the crowd

that habitually ruined

every little chance 

that you could ever get 

while spoiling it 

for someone else. 

It does not get better

but the fears are worse

and if we are clever

we can send away

for a little bit of relief

pretending to be a cure. 

Wipe away something

as to the age spots 

that persistently damn us

to having less and less

of anything interesting 

while being phased out. 

It could be sudden death

in play off final rounds

or we could linger 

on a tailgate of a life 

having been locked out 

of the after parties. 

It isn't really anything 

that we came for 

but they took that too 

leaving the doodled pages

of meaningless reviews. 

----------------------------- 

210521B

----------- 

Could scrub it all

and even in a forever

it never would 

ever come clean. 

Needs to be thrown 

into the far away 

long haul 

comes to trashed. 

That might compensate

for the intervening lack

currently passing

as appearances. 

Spruce it up 

with anything 

that offers no sense 

of any attachment. 

We must be 

very scrupulous 

in regard 

to polishing off. 

The arrangements 

declared all wrong 

because they fill

rather than empty. 

There are listings

of things to die from

including yourself 

in unguarded moments. 

It is always said 

that you do not need

anything you know

that you really love. 

There is a lot 

that you can get 

and get to know 

but cannot care about. 

No easy way out 

because you missed that

train as it was leaving 

that long ago station. 

Your ticket no good 

for any destination 

you tried to trade it 

for something new. 

You lost on it

the way you always do

in the all about being 

wrong place and time. 

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