Sent, I Meant

Sentiment; when she was sent you were meant
To seize it
For the gift it was
Heaven sent or by chance and luck

Five letters, a French letter or a red letter
They come once in a lifetime or don’t come at all
And you’re left with the sticky
Sickly sweet stench on your fingers

Hell yeah; part three
Part free
Part of me dies
Every time she slips through my clumsy grasp
Believe in yourself
In something, in nothing
And you’re here again
Forlorn, four long years

It’s formulaic
Lay her form down on the bed
Between the hope and the
Havoc and all the things you’ve done

So I went out, pulled out a piece of parchment
Pieced together, burnt out by her
Fire and a candle only flickers this bright
For a brief few seconds son

The gown still smells the same
Stays the same, sat in the same
Spot, same place on the bedroom floor where
She left it

And I forgot to thank her

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A Sentimental Psyche

My main issue is that i long for something more. Life is mundane. I am an ordinary person and extraordinary things happen at most twice a year. I have found it very difficult to deal with this. It is part of the reason why i write, and read a lot of your poetry. To me that is what poetry is, an escape from the desperation of our miserable 9-5 lives. I wish that every day of my life was like the post “A Moment”, standing stock still in wonder with my breath stole from my aching lungs.

Piercing Blue

So this is what passion is
All that it is, all that it ever was
When it’s laid out, stripped bare
And shown for what it really is

Bursting, short, sharp spurts
A few manic minutes to break the monotony
We need, we crave it, we hunger for the
Release, the relief

So gasp, gulp it all down
The essence is essentially all
You need child
To forget for one second

Just how you turned out
How every rock you hurl
Bounces back off the glass
Bruising that already bloodied

And blistered face
You’ve torn the veil from grace
And seen the wrinkles that have
Set in and hang around once soft

Lips and been shocked to see
But not too shocked
That those piercing blue eyes
Have turned to grey and clouded

Over. It’s all over and now
As you sit, rocking back and forth
They’ll never understand your need for
Mediocrity or an even keel

Smooth sailing without the pits
And troughs along the way because
Once you’re riding a wave
You can’t hold back the sickening knowledge

That soon you’ll be lost at sea
Adrift and crashing against
Those tired allegorical rocks
Without a siren, a harpie, a sylph or
A selkie to offer some brief respite
To rub your back, hold you tight and whisper
In that one ear that works;
It’s all alright, at least you’re alive

Immaculate

We’ve all been searching for something for so long
That the reality is that we simply can’t accept anything
That’s real, as everything that is actual and material
Is by its nature, flawed with faults and far from

The ideal, the perfect, the immaculate image of
That life we dreamt of
That we were raised on, hand reared to believe
That something just a little beyond human

Existence could await us, perhaps only us
And it’s all fairy tales and folk lore
But perhaps thats all there is
There are no dragons, no hydras, no trolls

No knights, no princess
Nobody wears a white veil
We are all muddied, bloodied
Human and defective

Beauty is best left fleeting
Because she is a flickering, fluttering flash
Through your life
A bright flame that burns out far too fast

And scorches into the soul
The first cut is the deepest is
A lie I’ve heard far too many times
As the twentieth gouge slices roughly into

My aching wrist, relax and wrap it up
A tourniquet, a suture sculpting the skin
To disguise the damage of
Every little last laceration

Thanks for the mammaries, the misery, the memories
The mild amusement and the smile that slips across
These bruised and battered features
It’s not so bad, we are all alive and

Well, well isn’t that just the point
We live, we grow, we move on
And beautiful moments are only beautiful
As they are so short, sharp, sudden
Unexpected and altogether surprising
Cutting us to our cynical cores and showing
A glistening glimpse of something that we know
Deep down is the ecstasy of life

All good things in small doses
Lap it up and indulge
Savour it, savour her
Save up the saviour and store it
To save you from your sorrow

Progress

Maybe next year senorita
Take a breath and slow down
Don’t rush, time is short
But you don’t want another
Panic attack

Diagnosed and dedicated to
Taking care of what ails you
Yet there’s no cure for the human condition
Misanthropy and misery
Paint that smile on

Run on, run along
Pound the pavement
Feet hot against the tarmac
Wind in your hair, sun on your back
Your nipples chafing against your shirt

It’s bad for your knees, everything is bad for something
Stand and fight and fall and die
At the end of the day and the start of the night
There is really only one certainty in life

We’re hot on our forebears forepaws
But they had four paws and lived on the forest floor
Are we any better or any worse
Improvise, adapt and overcome

But we can’t defeat death
We just see it coming
Is it really better to know
Or is sentience just our sentence
Penance for pissing on the pyre of progess