170619A
------------
Kept to wavering
on the edge
of various extinctions.
A pick or choose
between left over conditions.
The quantities are limited,
and may not be available,
at all locations.
Can't we get anything else ?
It was the same
at every previous stop.
They never had anything
that we really wanted.
Pop the top
and listen to whatever it is
that is screaming escape.
Secrets dribbling out,
over the hard metal edge,
ending absorbed
on the tips of tongues.
Everyone pretending
that they heard nothing said.
The conversation moves over
to continue in the wheel well;
gathering momentum.
Drizzle of forever,
combing out memories
from yesterday's hair.
They made it seem so necessary;
carefully organized,
with everything being labelled.
The sort of poetry
that is meant to be chanted
when in a condition of doubt.
Liturgy of doubts
reverberates in hollows,
scooped free of content.
Perpetual emulations
simulated by substance,
fostering new terms of abuse
definitive of mass conscious
empty packaging,
under fashionable wraps.
Watching the gamblers,
grabbing flesh arms
of slot machines.
The smell of jack pot
drifts in between
cash and concrete,
to cloud up various losses.
Another dip
into a dance with emptiness.
-----------------------------------
170619B
-----------
Nothing ordinary worth saying,
so say nothing,
expecting no extraordinary replies
to anything on the day's menu.
Eat it all up,
until additively choked,
unable to swallow any more.
They will laugh at you,
after you walk out.
Outside takes your breath
squirrelling it away,
into scratch and sniff packets,
left for guessing
which drug and what sex,
dogs are licking
off the sidewalk.
No one notices your ghost
cutting estranged air.
Government agents,
working the street corners
recognize your face.
They look to get attention,
recording whereabouts,
with all the guile and zeal
of tax collectors;
actresses accumulating trophies,
and barmaids getting tipped.
Ambulance at the library,
conducting a recovery
as to what slipped and fell
between the pages.
Cover up the ink smear
and carry it out,
last chapter under a sheet,
complete with needle marks,
inserted between lines.
Spending habits,
among broken automatons,
being consumed,
to falling short of valued,
disregarded particulars
of anything you love.
Remains kept carefully aside
in a traumatized daze,
severely marked down condition.
All the futile searches,
that occupied time.
Proving nothing warranted
as to any interests in common
being procured.
The emptied out expressions
of what persist,
maintained in a sorry state,
continuation of decline.
Something gone rotten,
before anything came of it.
It took far too long,
to realize
the trends were changed
in all the windows.
Left standing out,
with a bag full of wrong,
forever getting dumped.
-----------------------------
200619A
------------
Another deranged morning,
of beating at the walls,
trying to tear something down,
if only to get by and get through.
What you were told was a blessing
turned out to be the curse.
Scars you up,
into a permanent discard.
Your open book existence,
covers torn away,
and publicly read
to exemplify bad pulp fiction.
Flip a coin
calling that a romance novel.
Dear diary,
there is nothing left to tell.
Everyone is bored to death,
before any meeting is arranged.
It simplifies scheduling,
leaving nothing but opportunity.
Cohabiting with imagination
but it keeps wanting to leave,
so it can run wild,
terrorizing with that much isolation.
Fallen from the lists,
with no way to settle any score,
your whole game goes tilt
back to reset mode.
You get nothing that way,
but put another coin in,
diminished down to a feeling
nothing will light up again.
Whatever it was
no one actually wanted any.
When it looks that bitten on
even a dog does not want to chew.
-----------------------------------------
200619B
-----------
That feeling you get given to,
when there are no right places left,
and the wrong places won't.
You wander around in make believe,
of hopeless at find something.
Loose ends of pretend a life,
presenting a tatter sort of existence,
concerning rumoured possibilities
mostly made up, tough to imagine
having any relation to chance.
If anything actually appealed,
it was torn away,
exposing more ugliness
floated to a surface bloat
of trauma induced regret.
Not much to choose,
between causes of death,
so it turns to random pick.
Telephone rings,
causing another reluctant leap.
Tangled up in the hoops
you failed to jump through,
you get a commercial message,
that hangs up
as quickly as it dialed.
You want to go back
to before the beginning,
so you can turn over,
to sleep through it all,
hoping something changes.
---------------------------------
200619C
-----------
Every passing garbage truck
seems to be hauling away,
another compressed instant,
completely crushed,
to dripping something
popped out from eyes,
tongue shoved back into throat,
where words choke up
melded into ignored ravings.
There never were any answers,
and I do not know the questions.
Everything continually changes
into the same as it ever was.
Breaking free of reflections
gets you the same bad luck
to add to what was accumulated.
Something to remember
as to what you have nothing of.
It becomes a long list,
tossed around between diversions.
Picking at a rubbish heap of dreamt,
pure chance bits and pieces,
meant to plug some of the gaps.
The emptied out feeling expanding
the way a sea of flood expands
to filling over entire horizons
with spills of futile gesture.
No one to be held accountable
for gone down the drain.
No one really cared that much
as to stepping into line,
for the sake of filling in a blank.
No sand bagging efforts
shoring up anything of value
to protect from the hungry ravages
decomposing of mindscapes.
-------------------------------------
New species of loneliness that you probably never dared to explore anything of, in our desolate wasteland of never anything but something ever more contrary.
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