Well, aren't you lucky ... I was just getting ready to slap up a new poem! Due to semi-popular demand, I have these tucked behind the ever-handy LJ-cut thing, but new morbidity is lurking there! The rest can be found, as always, at http://i.am/btripp
WE DRIFT IN GREY, DISJOINTED
no context,
no contact,
we weave between options,
never the best;
all things come filtered
to optimize loss,
vision tinted
for maximum dark
always outsider,
never in synch,
we are exiled
and unwanted,
always disbelieved;
every reach is parried,
every touch refused,
we drift in grey, disjointed
fragmented hours,
fractured timelines,
nothing is whole here,
nothing undamaged;
we carry the scars
of continued decay,
a history carved
of these broken years
these systems fail us
and mock our defeat,
no matter how we try
the mundane frame
twists out of line,
shifting just enough
to ensure our frustration
which it so savors
come see the corpse
herewith exhibited
as perpared
by his own hand,
ignore the strings
which point control
to other beings
on other planes
- Brendan Tripp
03/19/2002
Copyright © 2002 by Brendan Tripp