Saturday, May 14, 2016
A new begining
Middlemarch
here that middle age is upon me
like the odd relative you hoped never to meet...
and dreaded the awkward pleasantaries...
the relative who wanted to know you better
than you him...
it's actually a relief
that the lava has started settling in deeper
with far fewer volcanos
sneaking up on you...
but when they do
still as woefully unprepared
some metaphors suddenly make sense
And cliches have gradually stopped sounding stale
a bit of failure
and the meaninglessness of it
knowing science
all of it will go back to dust
be careful what you wish for
for sometimes it is fatal
and at other times absolutely futile
the finish line seems tantalizingly closer
but still the words will need to be said
and words will need to be typed
without a purpose
and without aspiration
you have now collided with that relative
and you must do what you need to...
to adjust
Middlehalt
no poetry comes through
as if someone has clamped a hand
everything done for you
technolgoy
a fufilling distraction
no time to feel the hurt, angst, heat, cold
the wind in your hair
afraid of the pollution
no material left
to emote
eveything is cling-film and disinfectant
a flushot and a air-mask
rationality has seeped in
rotted impulse and
lulled the hunger
I lay sated
unable to summon
the raw and the rage
impotent but content
comfortable in the middle
Time
ah the brutal comfort
has stalled poetry...
stopped it dead
freezing it in slow-mo
soaking it up
wasting not a drop
like a thirsty traveler
I read my younger self
marveling at the
epic primacy
visceral rawness
and the yellowed-paper
brittleness
of the heart
in it's prime
wishing it well
remembering
how it felt
the promise to the older self
of never forgetting
this desire
this pain
this moment
wish i had known
that blood does slow down
drop by drop
that desire will ultimately lose
despite the thousand small rebellions
it will age
despite the rage
long into the night
I catch catch the searing heat
in a flashback that
lasts lesser than the last time
reminding me of the distance
traversed
in what seems like
glacial
geological
galactic
time
here that middle age is upon me
like the odd relative you hoped never to meet...
and dreaded the awkward pleasantaries...
the relative who wanted to know you better
than you him...
it's actually a relief
that the lava has started settling in deeper
with far fewer volcanos
sneaking up on you...
but when they do
still as woefully unprepared
some metaphors suddenly make sense
And cliches have gradually stopped sounding stale
a bit of failure
and the meaninglessness of it
knowing science
all of it will go back to dust
be careful what you wish for
for sometimes it is fatal
and at other times absolutely futile
the finish line seems tantalizingly closer
but still the words will need to be said
and words will need to be typed
without a purpose
and without aspiration
you have now collided with that relative
and you must do what you need to...
to adjust
Middlehalt
no poetry comes through
as if someone has clamped a hand
everything done for you
technolgoy
a fufilling distraction
no time to feel the hurt, angst, heat, cold
the wind in your hair
afraid of the pollution
no material left
to emote
eveything is cling-film and disinfectant
a flushot and a air-mask
rationality has seeped in
rotted impulse and
lulled the hunger
I lay sated
unable to summon
the raw and the rage
impotent but content
comfortable in the middle
Time
ah the brutal comfort
has stalled poetry...
stopped it dead
freezing it in slow-mo
soaking it up
wasting not a drop
like a thirsty traveler
I read my younger self
marveling at the
epic primacy
visceral rawness
and the yellowed-paper
brittleness
of the heart
in it's prime
wishing it well
remembering
how it felt
the promise to the older self
of never forgetting
this desire
this pain
this moment
wish i had known
that blood does slow down
drop by drop
that desire will ultimately lose
despite the thousand small rebellions
it will age
despite the rage
long into the night
I catch catch the searing heat
in a flashback that
lasts lesser than the last time
reminding me of the distance
traversed
in what seems like
glacial
geological
galactic
time