Anyway, a new poem. Lucky you. As I noted, I'm fucked in terms of updating the archive site ... I just don't have the hours right now. Sorry about that. The new stuff will go in there every few weeks, but right now (unless I figure out some way to fill time on breaks and stuff at school with it) ther eare no spare hours at all. What there is of the archive is at http://i.am/btripp ... go see me bleed.
PREPARED FOR ENDING
almost collapsing
these walls rushing
the boundaries
grow far too tight
we can not move
we can not think
frozen by fear
wrapped up in rage
constituent parts
too small to save
in chaos losing
without a count
too many factors
weave in and out
intentional absence
which echoes our pain
these days without alignment
all jumbled down
vast piles of hours
not enough to build
but far too much
to be wasted thus
scattered like fragments
of the flotsam trail
this darkness swirls
in blackened colors
and midnight greys
a kaleidoscope flow
never drifting far
from that zero state
its patterns are our madness
its churning grips our life
and, in the center,
the very core,
is loss and anguish,
agony and hate,
these form the theme
of all our being,
structuring the Hell
which is our fate
- Brendan Tripp
03/14/2002
Copyright © 2002 by Brendan Tripp