BTRIPP (btripp) wrote,

More Poems! 1 of 4 ...

(sigh) ... One of the things I miss from writing my poems into the keyboard is having to make a major effort to transcribe them. This, as I have mentioned, involves decoding my tiny pinched scrawl from the little bitty shirt-pocket-size notebook pages. Due to the effort involved, I typically have to book a block of time for this ... well ... lucky you ... I just got the stuff from this HELL of a week typed up. Fun. Fun. Fun. Herewith and following are the nasty blood trails of where my insides have been dragged. Do enjoy them. And, as always, if these are not enough, there's always more misery to immerse in over at

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                    IMPLODING WRATH

                    how dark this pit,
                    how vile this chaos;
                    the mundane madness
                    never ceases to amaze,
                    just when they have us
                    beaten, battered,
                    fresh fires erupt
                    to cast us to new depths

                    did we not feel
                    enough pain, enough anguish
                    before this strike?
                    did we not have
                    enough wounds
                    to make us broken,
                    useless, without will;
                    why hit us any more?

                    this onslaught is
                    so vast, so horrid,
                    that I can find
                    no way to fight;
                    how might one block
                    tsunami blasts
                    when damaged, crippled,
                    and driven down?

                    no, I can barely
                    muster rage here,
                    I am shocked, blind-sided,
                    stunned into void;
                    I burn with hatred
                    but cannot act,
                    there are no vectors,
                    just imploding wrath

                    the sickness spreads within,
                    the ache for death,
                    the yearning to release
                    from this human world
                    so full of evil
                    and pointless darkness
                    crushing out the light
                    and those who see it

                             - Brendan Tripp

                    Copyright © 2002 by Brendan Tripp

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