BTRIPP (btripp) wrote,


Are there any GOOD days I'm going to have? It doesn't seem like it. No matter how "not bad" any particular 24-hour period might be working out, there is always SOMETHING that slams in on it to make it a bad, depressing, stressful, anguished, hateful day. There are so many people and institutions that I would like to BUTCHER at this point. If I have one more fucking credit card denied I think I'm going to start sending C4 in with their fucking bills. Damn them all to hell. Unfortunately, the way things look, for ME in my fucking life, it's like the beer slogan ... it just doesn't get any better than this! No ... this is as good as it gets, since things get more Hellish and insane day after day after fucking day. At this point I really don't believe that anybody is gong to HIRE me, and I'm pretty damn sure that any "retraining" that I launch into for a career change is going to be in whatever will be completely unneeded in the workforce once I'm done getting re-educated. Damn. Suicide looks better every fucking day, but I SWEAR that if I'm going down, I'm going to take as many of those god-damned motherfucking sacks of shit with me that I can!

Yeah ... enjoy the new poem ... there's a lot more off at ....

                    FADING, DEFIANT STILL

                    at the outer reach
                    of our desperation
                    we spew into the void
                    these last frantic sprays,
                    the final efforts
                    of a broken life,
                    to see if something
                    will yet preserve

                    all other options
                    have crumbled
                    gone brittle
                    and fallen away
                    leaving scarred facades,
                    disfigured visions,
                    and bleeding lacerations
                    on the surface of the soul

                    we can't say we hope
                    within these forms
                    they are more reactive,
                    instinctive spasms
                    of action against doom,
                    but as the fish in spawn
                    upon the angler's line
                    it is the last chance to be

                    the darkness closes
                    all around me
                    the screamed demands
                    of hostile worlds
                    create cacophonies
                    meant to confuse;
                    I huddle low here
                    alone against the blast

                    but this won't sway me,
                    perverse unto the last,
                    I defy them
                    and curse their voice;
                    I shall strive against them
                    with the last scintillas
                    of my dying light
                    and never bow their way

                             - Brendan Tripp

                    Copyright © 2002 by Brendan Tripp

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