Q: Where do they hang the poets? A: on the "Poet Tree" ... yuk, yuk, yuk

Yeah, like that. But just insert random obscenities, since it's not been a nice day. It's not been a particularly BAD day ... but it's gotten me down and thereby it's currently sucking. Damned stupid entrepreneurial schedule ... I'm tired and REALLY want to sleep, but OF COURSE, if I sleep that means I miss getting 4-8 hours of work done tonight. Bleh. And at least ONE of these things needs to be done by noon. Anyway ... wrote this today:


                    WALLS WHICH WEAVE THE CAGE


                    this fragmented structure
                    this unfocused time
                    conflict and collapse
                    from internal strain
                    all things illusive
                    nothing concrete
                    we've no point of steering
                    nothing to guide

                    is anything real here,
                    is anything true?
                    we can not assay
                    its content or form
                    as everything touched
                    dissolves into mist
                    empty and mocking
                    hauntingly vague

                    what hasn't decay
                    undermined in this zone?
                    what hasn't been stained
                    by corruption's hand?
                    where is the pure,
                    where is the good
                    in these layers of filth,
                    repulsive and vile?

                    we ache to awake
                    from nightmarish days;
                    we yearn to return
                    to contexts of grace
                    where all is in flow
                    and functions with ease,
                    where everything synchs
                    and is not out of phase

                    an evil consumes
                    all things of this world
                    a blindness envelops
                    and befuddles sight
                    we find ourselves lost
                    in a maze built of lies
                    unable to blaze
                    a route of escape



                             - Brendan Tripp
                                03/14/2001

                    Copyright © 2001 by Brendan Tripp