BTRIPP (btripp) wrote,
BTRIPP
btripp

bleh

Had a "Daddy" day today ... Daughter #1's birthday is on Sunday, so we let her stay home from school, and took both girls down to Marshall Fields for breakfast in the Walnut Room, with their big 3-story Xmas tree. Then we had the requisite picture with Santa ($18 for one sheet of prints!), and looked at the holiday windows up and down State St. Took the little one home for a nap and then took the big one over to see her Grandmother ... caught up with The Wife and Daughter #2 around 3pm and went down to see Monsters, Inc. ... unfortunately, the little one was not into it so just me and #1 watched it all the way through. More of same tomorrow and Sunday, whooopie. We had to put off the actual party till next weekend, since we're having it at Daughter #1's Dojo and they were booked this weekend.

Anyway ... got another poem done ... this means that I need to get 10 more done next month to have an even 4,000 poems written from 1976-2001 ... I think I'm going to try to target doing 200 poems a year (I used to write 250 poems a year ... and kept that up from 1987 through 1997) starting wtih 2002 ... which will mean racking up another 1,000 poems every 5 years instead of 4, but being a bit easier-to-manage 16-17 poems a month rather than the previous 21 (or 4 a week instead of 5 a week). Of course, you can read the old stuff (as I get it edited) at the Big Poetry Site ... http://i.am/btripp


                    FRAGMENTS OF BROKEN LIFE


                    1
                    into this tunnel
                    into other times
                    revisiting visions
                    of what once was
                    and what was known
                    and what was held
                    so close, so cherished
                    so long ago
                    2
                    every joy we near
                    withers, dies
                    irradiated by the curse
                    which poisons all our days
                    which rips the nightmares
                    out of our sleep
                    and gives them flesh
                    and license to destroy
                    3
                    darkness hovers
                    at all the edges
                    each act we do
                    each task we tackle
                    is shadowed over
                    by this doom
                    by this touch of death
                    by damnation
                    4
                    the pointlessness
                    the pain
                    of all these empty efforts
                    fated from the start
                    to failure
                    to frustration
                    to loss and anguish
                    and the mocking of the world
                    5
                    we cycle down
                    the sickening spiral
                    in worsening states
                    dark to darker
                    sad to sadder
                    dread to terror
                    is there no end to this?
                    is there no release?



                             - Brendan Tripp
                                11/30/2001

                    Copyright © 2001 by Brendan Tripp
 
 



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