SINEWS FROM OUR BONES
1
how many vectors
now incise this space?
we turn to ribbons
shredded by demand
unable to sustain
a place within the world
except for target
in the cross-hairs of despite
2
so much goes missing,
so much is lost,
all faith, all belief,
before a twisted race;
we maintain nothing of
treasures of the past
and attain nothing
of our future dreams
3
will the taunting
never end,
never shift to silence
and let us be?
is it not enough
that every hope has failed,
must we also be
rubbed into that decay?
4
only anger, only rage
sustain us now
we drive on forward
to just deny
the pleasure of our death
to those vile beings
which wait to pick
the sinews from our bones
5
no effort suffices,
no intent paves way
for an achievement;
all the things we want
are waved before our eyes
and then snatched from us
as through to show that these exist
and that we shall never have them
- Brendan Tripp
07/18/2002
Copyright © 2002 by Brendan Tripp
