BTRIPP (btripp) wrote,

Same Shit ... Different Day ...

(Sigh) ... does anybody read my postings anymore? It seems unlikely ... hell, I've stooped to begging on various lists I'm on for folks to go and look at the poem site ... you know, at ... at least the indexing bots are finding it ... I did a Google search on my name the other day and got 17 pages of links, since every page on the Big Poem Site has my name on it three to four times (page title, copyright info, contact info, and "by" if it's a poem page)! By the way ... I updated the Cafe Press store so the links work from there ... that's at if you feel like going shopping.

Anyway, here's a new one ... The Wife seems to have given up on the part-time night job (she, at least, has people interviewing her for day jobs ... unlike the Wall Of Silence that greets all my resumes) so I've been able to get back those slim bits of time for writing. I especially like the fourth stanza here ... complete with an Alice Cooper nod ...

                    VILE EMPTINESS, VILE WASTE

                    new disappointments
                    new cycles of doubt
                    we are collapsing
                    into null states
                    all vectors imploding
                    leading within
                    as the world comes down
                    upon our heads

                    how can this intrude
                    so deeply here?
                    how can the poisons
                    of mundane day
                    reach these sanctuaries
                    and turn them ashen
                    with the same pallid dread,
                    the same choking grey?

                    desperation reels
                    and infiltrates the day
                    we churn through panic
                    in every moment
                    unable to face
                    the horrors before us
                    unable to deal with
                    the madness of our fate

                    we find emptiness
                    in everything
                    but not the Zen emptiness...
                    the cold, exsanguinated,
                    drained of life empty,
                    the sucked dry empty,
                    the disemboweled empty,
                    the cadaver eye empty

                    we are dragged down
                    by black hole weights
                    our reality distorted
                    in some death spiral
                    more twisted, more corrupt
                    as though flushed
                    from hateful worlds
                    to which we were but waste

                             - Brendan Tripp

                    Copyright © 2001 by Brendan Tripp

visit my home page

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