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Madly In Love (Repost)

MADLY IN LOVE

Her life redrawn as a comic strip … sans comedy.
No longer that dynamic duo. Batteries flat.
Bats in the belfry, robbin’ bewildered senses blind.
And … adrift might best describe it. Hooked, blind and snookered.

…..(He is the one?)

Even lying beside her, not truly here, he lies
oceans away, behind cold fronts, lines of icy bars,
biting winds, squalls of temper, hurricanes of contempt.
Comforts herself with poetry and sweet memories

…..(He is the one!)

that turn to nightmares where he’s drowning, calling her name.
Then she is there, reviving him (mouth to mouth, of course).
Waking to find him gone she recaulks her leaky fancies,
sets her sails for yet another day tacking upwind.

…..(He is the one!)

Eschewing havens, but never her hope, she soldiers on,
soiled sails reduced to tatters, she rows from pole to pole,
trawls the seven seas. Her treasure? Nowhere to be seen.
He has unfurled his true colours: the skull and crossbones.

…..(He is the gone.)

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Adversity

ADVERSITY

This one’s for Audrey (and many another).

I hit the road
It hit me back
We paused a mo
Now here we go

Gender Issues

GENDER ISSUES

The suicide decided after all to cross the river.
Styx a stone’s throw away – Too many thrown stones.
Crossed over now into who knows what or where. Into
who knows beneath all that faith and charity after all?

Cruelly abandoned by us all; backed up into corners.
All those accusatory closed doors, shuttered windows.
Words not the sole way to show a soul’s distress though.
Tiny gestures, reactions, dress choice speak volumes;
sightlessness alive and well among the seeing.

The suicide decided to cross the river.
(Styx a stone’s throw away after all.)
Many too many thrown stones.
And words not the sole way
to show a soul’s distress.

Countdown To Gratitude

COUNTDOWN TO GRATITUDE

7 – Losing you woke me screaming
6 – The screaming subsided
5 – Took a look around
4 – Discovered I’m
3 – Even so
4 – Still here
1 – Whole
0 – Boundlessness … ness … ness …

The Cuckoo

THE CUCKOO

Alarm bell rings out
Cuckoo in the nest!
Cuckoo in the nest!
Cuckoo in the nest!

Knowing onlookers
(Programmed so to do)
Pity these deaf parents
Puzzled yet obeisant

Watching their progeny
Thrown overboard
By this guzzling
Immigrant

No one though pities
The cuckoo’s offspring
Motherless, abandoned
Left to fend for itself

Still there’s always poetry
As there’re always poets
Who never quite fitted in
Left casting their pallid light

And treating Spell Check
As a servant rather than a god

Stuck In The Mud

STUCK IN THE MUD

Seeking duration
We forget love transcends it
And remain mired

Compassion

COMPASSION

Poor rich Donald
Had a heart once too

But has not yet
Found the courage

To admit it is broken
And embark upon

The painful journey
Required to mend it

A Handful Of Sexualities

A HANDFUL OF SEXUALITIES

Four fingers, one thumb.
Various parts; the same hand.
Words; names; attitudes.
Different, not separate.
Cut one off and all feel pain.

Family

FAMILY

They were both upfucked
It was nothing personal
Still I’m upfucked too

Turn! Turn! Turn!

TURN! TURN! TURN!

Feeling is healing
But not until the time comes
Till then it is hell

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