BTRIPP (btripp) wrote,

another poem ...

Blah, blah, blah. Yadda, yadda, yadda. Eh. So we're finally getting some Winter weather here. Like a foot of snow tonight ... Daughter #1 will be thrilled, she had been scraping at any dusting of snow to make something to throw at me. Assuming it doesn't all melt (the temps are going to make it be right on the snow/rain/ice edge) she'll have all the snowballs she can possibly want. Just in time for us to run off ot Florida this weekend to visit their grandpa. I'm sort of looking forward to the trip myself, he's pretty much paying for it all (give or take a cab ride to the airport and a meal or two), and it will at least be DIFFERENT. Most of what passes for "different" in my life these days means "oh, shit ... it managed to get WORSE", so a change of venue will at least be a distraction from the nightmare.

Oh, speaking of the unending nightmare, here's another poem! Not only this new one, but I just uploaded all of February 1996 to the Big Poem Site (you know, at, so there's another 18 poems to read there now. Hopefully I'll both write another poem tomorrow and get another month done ... I'm quite far behind from where I was hoping to be with getting stuff up in the archive. Doing the editing is taking a bit longer than I'd figured, so the "year a month" plan has slowed down to about "year every two months" which means I'm going to be cranking through that editing process for a very very long time.


                    unerring darkness,
                    seamless despite;
                    there are no lapses
                    within this damnation,
                    no gaps or edges
                    to let in hope,
                    no unfinished pieces
                    to provide an escape

                    we are weary
                    of this weight,
                    fatigued by days
                    which have no promise
                    but for the sureness
                    of worse ones yet
                    and unspoken horrors
                    yet to arise

                    we seek a refuge
                    inbetwixt time
                    taking some solace
                    in liminal frames,
                    the on-rushing moment
                    not lost nor attained,
                    the most subtle of places
                    outside of the dream

                    but this invisible harbor
                    can't save us for long,
                    we are blasted off balance
                    by the mundane's attacks
                    and fall into nightmares
                    unable to cope,
                    unable to deal,
                    unable to flee

                    this world hurtles
                    out of control,
                    its madnesses driving
                    all to despair,
                    its paranoid systems
                    all primed to destroy
                    that which is other,
                    that which is true

                             - Brendan Tripp

                    Copyright © 2002 by Brendan Tripp

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