10.10.12 Poem

Browned, and freckled
digging deep the earths rasp
Vice, avarice, despair
All be found.
A shovel,
A clutch,
A moment's passed.
Be of good cheer,
Never mind the stations
lost.
...

Gone for now,
The illusion matters not.
Weary thoughts, weary heart, weary soul
Prematurely old.
But why bother?
Be of good cheer!
These spirits pick up.
Tis one thing to be of the mind
Another to live outside it.

***

What does it mean
to be here, now.
At a loose end.
Some time to think
Too much time for others.
Absorbtion a-plenty
Passion, where is thy drum?

A fetal curl
Not out of bed yet.
Some say its anxiety
Maybe a little depression.
More insane job cuts
More insane wars.
I'm feeling sorry for myself
What about the world.
Time does not bring back youth,
But time exists to change our attitude.
Who's afraid of the Tall Poppy?

***

These days grow long
The summer's sun stretches beyond
Pessimistic clouds
Death, resurrection
False hope
And Illusion.
Gone.

Perhaps never far.

Pens, they say
Mightier than the sword
But is there much truth
Inside a heart that fears
A mind that is closed.