BTRIPP (btripp) wrote,

Poems ... lots of poems ...

Well, they're not there just yet, but assuming that I don't fall asleep at the keyboard in the next hour or so, there should be a whole bunch of new stuff up on the Big Poem Site ... ... I have three more months from 1996 (April, May, and June ... for a whopping 64 poems) plus the stuff I've written so far this year (another 10 poems ... but if you've been reading this space you've seen those already!).

Got up this morning and went over to Northwestern's Chicago campus to talk to them about their continuing education computer program, and it was, as I sort of suspected, more oriented to get folks already in jobs credentialed than to take somebody like myself and turn them into a hireable entity. I could have gotten a certificate part time there in 3 terms (about the same time) ... but I don't think it would have been the door-opener that the other program looks to be ... it would be much less money, though, (there's a shocker!) since that program's only 12 hours. I had attended N.U. a few times (my freshman year, and two other dips into the post-grad waters) and it was sort of comforting to be in that environment again. (SIGH) There is part of me which thinks that I really should have just kept going to college until somebody made me a professor and handed me tenure. Anyway ...

                    SCRAMBLED IN THE STORM

                    desperate reeling
                    in unsteady stance,
                    tornado flows
                    whip sensation;
                    we abut the madness,
                    touch the agony,
                    tumble down through chaos
                    and cannot find our feet

                    there is a wildness now,
                    an unhinged state
                    lurking beneath
                    the veneer of action,
                    the web of dull routine;
                    I feel the leakage
                    from that zone,
                    a shiver under stasis

                    new gears engage
                    in the nightmare mill,
                    new rules impose
                    as dictates from the void;
                    we seek a level
                    at which our senses
                    are not stunned by churning
                    or overloaded by the spin

                    every emptiness attains
                    reality in this mix,
                    the whirling matrix
                    expresses darkness
                    in seams and abysses,
                    gaps and hollows,
                    bits of blackness
                    oozing over light

                    and we are lost
                    deep within,
                    our contact points
                    with mundane worlds
                    go scrambled in the storm,
                    no orientation,
                    no alignment,
                    no way to define "here"

                             - Brendan Tripp

                    Copyright © 2002 by Brendan Tripp

visit my home page

  • Post a new comment


    default userpic

    Your reply will be screened

    Your IP address will be recorded 

    When you submit the form an invisible reCAPTCHA check will be performed.
    You must follow the Privacy Policy and Google Terms of use.