Year of the Tiger

February 24th 1962(02.00am)

Another day arrives in sunlight optimism
Another day to consider passed pessimism
Another day that aches like all before
Another day away from love and its minions
Another day since you brought me here
Another day since you left me
Just another day really

Dark thoughs that never get considered.

IF…………

The biggest word that belittles life is IF.

This prefixed word lowers expectation,

Shatters dreams and becomes a clinging post

For losers who in abject defeat say:

IF we

IF you

IF only there was

That’s the biggest IF that shrinks hearts

IF only you had not done that

IF only we had not done that

IF only there was love in the world

IF only love existed at all:

Then we could rebuild our expectations

And save this fucked up world.

Aye, IF only………………….

The Sense of impending..................?

SLOW MOTION: A DAY FURTHER ON.

Looking through the smoky haze,

The loss of love can acutely stab

The tender heart leaving grief,

But unrestricted knowledge of that love.

You could pose the question of how the alpha male

Achieved his pride by his incessant chest thumping.

But it will not diminish the sense of discrepancy layered

In your soul, the loss of that warm fingered soft touch

Of love, by love.

Not waking in reef knotted legs and arms that hold

Safe love by love.

Not receiving the heroes welcome when stumbling

Drunkenly into loves hands that though scolding

Still love without recourse.

Being without love is like slow motion replay

In rooms of mindless babble uncomprehending and empty.

Yet quiet contentment sits in the heart

Knowing that love exists, knowing what it feels like.

Hoping for loves call one day,

Knowing refusal is impossible.

The normality of being dead.

When the Child Screams

In the deep inner space of the soul,

No one can hear you scream.

Not like when the child screams

And the matriarch comes running

To soothe the misbegotten fear of

Shadows piercing the thumping heart.

Everyone remembers that scene.

A day in the life of a wanton love child

SLOW MOTION #1

People pass by in whirls of discontent,

Or content, or whatever.

Smoke billowing disguises the need of

The watching eyes, believing in the need of the malcontents.

That said, whatever the flippant say,

They cannot erase the speech of the chosen

That defiles their empty love in gestures of

Abject friendship, forever forlorn and not reciprocated.

So leave this sphere of content, take your

Malevolence and your bleary eyed sycophantic love.

Because slow motion betrays your every whimsical

Breath of death of subelty and want.

I smile because I see beyond your shit.