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From: Robert Morpheal <morpheal@yahoo.com>
Newsgroups: alt.surrealism
Subject: RE: POEMS 070907C to 070907E
Date: Sat, 08 Sep 2007 21:57:15 -0700
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070907C
-----------
I have long given up,
because whenever you are the one,
that I really want,
I am never the one,
that you really want,
something is always in the way,
it's too much like a last sacrament,
and it's over
before it ever really begins.
If it's not about money,
it's the imperfections of the body,
if it's not about the body,
then it's about the time or the place.
it's the alleged baggage,
it's the lord, it's the devil,
it's the falling from grace,
but it's never you and me,
it's always something else.
I have long been forced to give up,
learning how to win at love,
because it's always someone else's win
and then it is always my lose,
as it's someone else I'm aching for,
forcing me to give up aching for anyone,,
as there is only another stranger there,
that I don't want to know,
trying to get past my door.
--------------------------------
070907D
-----------
Helter skelter,
is all we ever got to know.
A scramble of madness,
meant to tangle everyone up
in forever trying to make sense
of what never makes any at all..
Everything we ever dreamed of
became castles in the clouds,
blown away by a dragon.
We learned that history only repeats
and nothing is ever really new
anywhere under the sun.
Eventually we lost
the strength to dream,
and couldn't get it back again.
We gathered our disappointments,
and clung on to those,
knowing precious little else.
It never really gets any better,
but it can always get worse.
All the little breakdowns
that we cannot afford to fix,
until it is impossible to care anymore
because it all goes that way.
Just when you think you have it,
you have got something else,
and what was feeling so fine,
is gone, leaving nothing much more
than an uneasy broken down feeling
it's like hot embers in the eyes.
--------------------------------------
070907E
-----------
There are so many more ways
to perish,
than there are ways
to survive.
Most of the latter
are too uncomfortable
to seriously consider,
being various forms
of ingenious torture
disguised as relationships,
devised or manipulated
to have nothing in common
that really means anything.
Not even worth considering
as to the momentary gratification
provided by unimaginative sex.
It's mostly the same
as being in a sinking vessel,
that has no escape hatch.
You are headed for the bottom,
pushed down past crush depth,
a finite bubble of breath,
suffocating in shrinking increments,
smaller and smaller,
with no real way to enjoy the descent,
to being gnawed down to a skeleton
of what was once a hope,
scattered across the empty sea floor.
It is not much more
than the bones
that were picked clean
of any remaining flesh.
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