mercy

I can’t complain     though I’ve seen better days     today was stillborn      dead on arrival     dismal as an infant’s funeral     bleak as a winter in hell     I don’t seem to mind    there’s no evil portioned to me    I haven’t witnessed before     I have always believed      that whatever comes my way      for good or ill      I must have earned it    so I will own it   quietly   en sotto voce      I don’t believe in drama     or the daily toil and trouble   I believe in something spiritual      manna spilled from heaven    where I trust I’m not forgotten     because I still hope for mercy      in the kingdom yet to come          

bed

 I will not take to my bed       no, I will not take to my bed       I’m sick and tired      and I need to sleep    but I will not take to my bed            the day is dark and sorrowful       and my heart has turned to lead          I could lie in for a day or two     but I will not take to my bed             the world has me by the throat      I wish that I was dead     I’m ready to jack it all in     but I will not take to my bed      

 

bittersweet

in the place where you are     rooted as you are    habitually static   do you feel incomplete?     is there hunger still in you?      have you come very far, in the course of a lifetime?      was the journey worthwhile, the way you remember?     could you do with a bit more emotional warfare?    are you finally done with me, now I’ve surrendered?

to tell you the truth     I saw it coming      felt trouble gnawing   deep in my entrails      maybe that feeling tainted my actions     and I drew trouble to me      with dread apprehension     battling shadows    like a child in the dark       was I sowing the seeds of intent?      did I walk a crooked path?       all prophesy is self fulfilling      it’s a law of nature     even I realise that

least said, soonest mended       I’ll reserve my judgements     for the early hours        to reflect in a vacuum     the role that I played in this latest debacle     I hold a fascination for the patterns of disgrace      and we were both disgraced in this episode     so I’ll bury you now      but I’ll mark the grave for later      I’m bound to return to the scene of the crime

we all have needs     some more than others    we do what we have to     in order to survive with egos intact     people get hurt     and get hurt in the hurting     some wounds heal       some wounds fester      some wounds are licked     because we like the flavour      there are bittersweet confections     that linger in the heart

baby buddha

I’m being ground down by the tyrant within     my mind is an elegant trap     a fractal of coloured lenses painting my emotions  various shades of sodom      I can’t go on living like this       but  what else do I know?        I have to move   and make my way by moving      somehow arriving and departing     constantly shifting       until I find some direction     that feels like I’m heading somewhere      I ought get into this      right into the heart of this      you kindled a flame in me       now watch me burn       art colours life     so paint me red     paint me gold       paint me anything at all     I’m losing my distinctions        it all blurs into nothing        and nothing becomes me like nothing at all 

alligator tears

when I was young       in my summer season     I tarried with junkies, thieves, and other lepers       I took the drugs they brought me       and used the words they taught me       those words are old now       teach me some new ones     or leave now in silence       don’t stain my solitude       with worthless gestures         there’s not much time left      and I’m busy writing eulogies

my best years are past     but I wouldn’t buy them back       the past is a curse     that still beats inside me      I’m not complaining       merely observing      if you catch me weeping        don’t be concerned      now and again     I’m struck with nostalgia     it’s a vicarious vice     for people my age     my erstwhile companions have all crossed over     their ghosts tell stories that play on my mind