BTRIPP (btripp) wrote,

OK ... new poems ... 1 of 10

Hey, I've got "old new poems" and "new new poems" coming up in the next several posts (LUCKY YOU!). There are seven from the middle of last month that I hadn't gotten around to typing up until this weekend, and then the three latest ones (including one finished today). Not that anybody's going to be reading them, of course.

Plus, I've "streamlined" my posting of these things thanks to discovering the lj-cut closing tag, allowing me to do ONE template instead of cutting and pasting five things together. Whoopie. Sorry if there were multiple versions of this particular post appearing on your Friends List, as I was tweaking the format on that.

                    CROSSTALK BLEEDING

                    we ache for words
                    to which we have no access
                    the font of truth
                    from which we've been exiled
                    we can not see to find
                    our old homeland
                    to float within its mystery
                    and feed upon its light

                    still we somehow hear
                    some of those voices
                    the muses that once sang
                    only to me
                    there is crosstalk
                    bleeding through the signal
                    taunting us with memories
                    of who we used to be

                    never is central
                    to these futures
                    forever does not
                    quite figure in
                    unless it is damnation
                    that we measure
                    or duration of our torment
                    in this realm of sin

                    thing which are not ours
                    now infect us
                    and force us into paths
                    strange and alien
                    we fight the bonds
                    and strain against the shackles
                    seeking to recover
                    another rhythm

                    there is no end
                    to what must be endured here
                    there is no road
                    that leads the captive free
                    there is no place
                    which offers sanctuary
                    or provides the soul
                    with what it needs to be

                             - Brendan Tripp

                    Copyright © 2002 by Brendan Tripp

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