BTRIPP (btripp) wrote,

P is for POETRY (uh, and I guess Psychosis, too ...) - #6/8

... poems ...

                    AT LEAST NOT LIVE

                    blow after blow
                    after blow rains down,
                    we are pummeled,
                    beaten down, ruined,
                    and then the world
                    demands again
                    asking why we linger
                    there upon the ground
                    so damaged here,
                    so stripped of time,
                    we can not build
                    what's been destroyed,
                    we can't repair
                    the shattered parts,
                    we have no means
                    to make us well
                    and yet the voice
                    of cruel insistence
                    calls us to task
                    for all our woes
                    as though these wounds
                    were not apparent
                    and that we had
                    all what once was

                    we have no faith
                    in these tomorrows,
                    no hope that they
                    would bring us light;
                    we've seen too much
                    of devastation
                    to expect of futures
                    a sudden change

                    how much we'd like
                    to be excused,
                    sent home unwhole
                    with purple hearts,
                    but this world ensuress
                    we'll never see
                    that realm again
                    at least not live

                             - Brendan Tripp

                    Copyright © 2002 by Brendan Tripp

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