BTRIPP (btripp) wrote,

hmmm ... am I defacing your Friends List?

Hmmm ... Deep Thoughts. With my moving into more regular poetry composition, am I "defacing" your Friends List by having my poems in here like this? I mean, I certainly am posting a LOT more thanks to slapping up the poems for all and sundry (I believe that prior to 9/11 I was updating my journal about once every two weeks), but as I push back towards the 21 poems/month level, that's a LOT of verbiage to be spewing. I wonder if I should sneak these behind a LJ Cut tag ... of course, my paranoia is that if I do, NOBODY will bother to click and read them, and that as things currently stand they might at least get ACCIDENTALLY read every now and then!

I'm off this afternoon for my official sign-up with the Chubb Institute and my new life as an "official geek". I hope I'm making the right call on doing this (given how the economy has hit tech jobs ... and that this will cost $16k!), but my "gut feeling" was this was the right school, and I've learned to trust my gut, since everything that I've ever done because "it's smart" or "that's the standard practice" or "everybody says", etc. has been a fucking disaster. Heh ... I guess worst comes to worst, I'll be able to figure out how to get that damn e-commerce module back up on the Eschaton web site, which has been down nearly two years now! (Yeah, I know ... you let a POET handle your I.T. stuff and you're screwed ... same deal as letting a poet handle all the bookkeeping/accounting!)

Anyway, here's another lovely little poem. Lots more off at ... but you knew that already, didn't you?

                    PLACES DRAWING DARK

                    unsettled transit
                    with too many shifts
                    a swirling vector
                    with no clear points,
                    no coordinates
                    to grid off the day,
                    constantly flowing
                    without control

                    all former markers
                    fade away
                              cheap red ink
                              in unrelenting sun
                    leaving vague traces
                    of what once was
                    not even guides
                    for action now

                    we blindly transgress
                    the iron-clad rules
                    of former days
                              which we owned
                    our weakness bleeds
                    off all intent
                    leaving a scramble
                    to fill these needs

                    when chaos is stasis
                    how may one build?
                    in the midst of the battle
                    what gardens tend?
                    battered and broken
                    our wounds slowly sap
                    the strength of conviction
                    the steel for the fight

                    strange darkness surrounds
                    not like comforting night
                    nor like the abyss
                    nor the cold stare of death
                    this bears an empty,
                    sharp and unwhole,
                    that seeps through the seams
                    poisoning all

                             - Brendan Tripp

                    Copyright © 2002 by Brendan Tripp

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