Anyway, this stuff obviously crept into the poem here ... a few of my recent poems have been started on one day and completed later ... so sometimes the themes morph a bit mid-stream. Oh, well ... what do you want for FREE? Speaking of which, more free morbidity can be found off at http://i.am/btripp ... but you knew that!
WHOLLY UNWELL
optimal formation
never arrives,
always skittered,
stuck on edges,
spinning, powerless,
without direction,
without control,
all empty action
no believing,
all deceit,
every promise
harbors hooks,
every lure,
a scented trap;
nothing honest,
nothing real
surface skidding,
trap door drops,
no vector builds
in fun-house mirrors,
no frame attains
to plot the grids
providing guidance,
the means to plan
creeping illness
defines the space;
we can not be,
we can not go,
we must drift between,
unable to align,
distant, not part of,
an absence, unfree
nausea grips,
each step betrays,
stumbling, hollow,
unsubtly set;
awaiting the vultures
to pluck out our eyes,
and maggots to strip
our bones into white
- Brendan Tripp
03/20/2002
Copyright © 2002 by Brendan Tripp