January 17th, 2001


Poetry ... just what you were waiting for, right?

So, it looks like the current trend is that I am only able to write when I have "down time" and am by myself. Somehow I can't get into my old pattern of blocking out a chunk of computer time to write ... I have to be off doing something else where I have time to kill.

Anyway, this weekend I was off in Los Angeles for the Unicity pre-launch meetings (very exciting, if over-whelming), so I had two days of transit and one night of hotel loitering. This (and the two poems that follow) are the products thereof.

                    IN FLIGHT, NOT FLEEING

                    longing touches
                    amid this flight
                    for mountains, canyons
                    mesas, plains
                    arrayed below us
                    close yet far
                    desired, unreachable
                    as miles reel by

                    I wonder which
                    of these I've seen
                    in long-past journeys
                    in different days
                    whe I had dreams
                    which molded acts
                    and let me search
                    the farthest reach

                    dreams have gone
                    replaced by walls
                    forged of nightmares
                    by the mundane,
                    freedom too
                    has fallen slain
                    in retribution
                    of vengeful norms

                    for each hope held
                    we're forced to bear
                    a score of failures
                    bound on like chain
                    by hostile worlds
                    which can't abide
                    the thought of dreams
                    becoming light

                    for every temple,
                    each holy hill,
                    where we have walked
                    the darkness has inflicted pain
                    which cuts the soul
                    and leaves the spirit empty
                    of hope and dreams
                    yet not this bitter pining

                             - Brendan Tripp

                    Copyright © 2001 by Brendan Tripp

visit my home page

... may the scumbag who complained about my previous sig reap the full measure of my rage!


"More, more! I'm still not satisfied!" ... right

There was an earthquake while I was loitering in the hotel (which is the subject of a potential rant ... the most up-to-date scheduling stuff I had for the conference indicated that there were going to be meetings up till 9pm on Saturday, but the conference actually ended at 5!), I didn't notice it, but the news broke in about it (two quakes actually, a 2-something followed by a 4-something), which did get me thinking of the pics of the "pancaked" buidings (much like the hotel I was in) from the last big quake.

                    DARK CHAMBERS WITHOUT DOOR

                    too many factors
                    too many threads
                    we're left so empty
                    failing intent
                    systems' decline
                    leaves us behind
                    lost in the desert
                    forgotten, exiled

                    once again
                    we must re-climb
                    the same damn hill
                    the mountain
                    which stymies
                    all efforts applied
                    we know how this plays
                    we've seen it before

                    what becomes
                    the difference?
                    what can be brought
                    to change?
                    we have no answers
                    not even a guess
                    so expect failure
                    as being the norm

                    cycles of defeat
                    taint these names
                    our humiliation
                    takes on new frames
                    as we retreat
                    to frustration
                    unable to strike
                    unable to win

                    downward, darkness
                    paths descend
                    all trends decline
                    when ours is need
                    all roads dead end
                    when we must move
                    this is our damnation
                    our endless pain

                             - Brendan Tripp

                    Copyright © 2001 by Brendan Tripp

visit my home page

... may the scumbag who complained about my previous sig reap the full measure of my rage!


Once more, with FEELING!

Ah, I miss travelling. Back in my P.R. gig I used to be on the road doing conferences and stuff maybe one week out of four ... which was just enough for me to be ready to get home when it was time to get home and ready to get the fuck out of the office when it was time to hit the road. I have this strange perversion for "functional" buildings ... airports, hospitals, military facilities ... and airports are the nicest way to get that fix, so travelling never wore down on me like I know it does on others. I keep hoping to build up some solid downlines around the country in my Unicity biz so that I'll have a reason to be jetting around to support folks in the various markets. Hey ... I had a great idea! Why don't YOU sign up with Unicity and I'll help you build YOUR business! That would be SO COOL! Anyway ...

                    PLACES WE CAN'T BE

                    stepping beyond
                    we become distance
                    expanding past
                    the normal plane
                    delicate state
                    so hard to keep this
                    so hard to be
                    in wider frames

                    one desire
                    amid confusion
                    the driving need
                    behind these days
                    can not be formed
                    within this language
                    does not have words
                    enough to say

                    yet shadow crafts
                    with the symbols
                    of the mundane
                    naming goals
                    in millions, billions
                    vast acquiring,
                    avarice untamed

                    the filaments
                    between these worlds
                    are oh so fragile
                    they bear no weight
                    and can not serve
                    to bridge these realms
                    and give us passage
                    to build the real

                    we must find means
                    to let the light in
                    the unseen flare
                    from hidden sides
                    we must find ways
                    to span this chasm
                    to conquer sleep
                    and nightmare life

                             - Brendan Tripp

                    Copyright © 2001 by Brendan Tripp

visit my home page

... may the scumbag who complained about my previous sig reap the full measure of my rage!