Tra-la, tra-la ... more HAPPY, HAPPY poetry ... tra-la, tra-la ...

Or, as Randy Savage would say "OOOOOH, YAH!" Some fine states of being these days ... real nice stuff ... "sucks to be me" and all that. Had another day pretty much scrubbed today, but this time it was in dealing with stuff that I'd assumed would take 2 hours which some how turned into about 7 hours. Oh, hey, yeah ... fill up my day and THEN rag on my ass for not getting anything done! There's a good move ... gotta love that psychology! Where's a fucking spike of heroin when I need one? Bleh. Anyway ...


                    NO TIME FOR FREEING, NONE FOR LIFE


                    these are the places
                    where knives pierce the flesh
                    these are the zones
                    where walls press and crush
                    these are the times
                    of deepest despair
                    these are the seasons
                    of hovering doom

                    too many functions
                    have failed in this pain
                    too many dreams
                    have been gutted alive
                    too many plans
                    have opened still-born
                    too many purposes
                    have been rendered moot

                    we are bound
                    within these days
                    by too many lines,
                    points of connection
                    that can not be severed
                    or eased or released,
                    and each of them pulls
                    in contrary ways

                    our center is beaten
                    mashed to a pulp,
                    we can not find focus
                    so deep in this ache;
                    how can we fight
                    the grip of this world
                    when so much is broken,
                    damaged, insane?

                    only our hatred
                    and only our rage
                    stand between us and death,
                    and just giving up
                    and accepting the void
                    and defeat by this world
                    and the despair and shame
                    and the lingering fade



                             - Brendan Tripp
                                03/10/2001

                    Copyright © 2001 by Brendan Tripp
 
 





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