I'm feeling a bit shell-shocked today, plus I'm coming down with the cold that #2 has had dripping out of her nose, plus we're going to Florida to visit with my Father-in-law tomrrow, so I am beyond thinking. Bleh. It's all in the poems anyway ... read the poems ...
YIELDING NOTHING BUT MORE PAIN
1
at the precipice
of the abyss
at the border
of unending night
we stand defeated,
broken and unwhole;
is there anything left
to yet repel the void?
is there any reason
to reject death once more?
2
we are wrapped up
in chains of anguish,
we are bound by bands
of tension's grinding stress;
there is no freedom of motion,
there is no room to grow,
we are frozen in a glacier
of evil fate
unable to break free
no matter how we fight
3
all these systems
taint and twist;
we are sickened by the flow
of cruelties unleashed,
of warped intents
ceding nothing here but pain,
and the insane tumble
of blinded masses
lining up to crush
whatever one might see
4
we drag across the desert,
sere beneath the sun,
chasing visions,
following myths of light,
a shimmering image
of a place of higher being;
be it prophecy
or sad mirage
this calls to us
deeper than the heat
- Brendan Tripp
01/31/2002
Copyright © 2002 by Brendan Tripp