Time To Open A New Door
Oh, I’ve got that ‘Bull by the Horns’, alright,
I’m dragging him up the road behind me.
Apathy’s a bus stop in a Ghost Town…
bollocks to that for a game of soldiers,
God (or whoever’s up there laughing at us?)
gave me feet, and as long as there’s ground
in front of me I’m a-keep on keeping on.
I’ve analysed ‘Depression’, dissected it,
riddled and muddled my aching head
with its heavy-mind-numbing-confusion.
What a waste of time, it’s one of two things
a Trap or a Springboard, the choice is yours.
Find your ‘Reason’, let the ‘Moss’ fly off
… ‘Adapt’ until it becomes Second Nature.
There are many ‘Prison Cells’ to waste in,
besides the obvious bricks & mortar ones…
never grace any of them with repetition.
Keep opening up Doors in front of you,
and only ever look back at the ‘Good Things’.
~ it’s treachery, whichever way you look at it ~
(Ending) ‘Posterity’
… Unhinged,
and fighting back
against the affront
of your unwanted
… ‘Speculations’.
If I gifted you this
evening’s Crown
… it still wouldn’t
keep you away…
there’d be (Smug)
Pomp and Parade.
“I am ‘Tailoring’
a pair of shoes…
the left made of
‘Disappointment’
the right ‘Defeat’…
for your DEMISE.”
Oh, no you are not!
You’re ‘Diluting’
yourself with each
and every (Hateful)
unnecessary stitch
‘Cobbled’ Together.
Nah, that’s not ‘Detrimental’, as such
… more uncomfortable, innit…
yet, if you weight it all up against
the ‘Positives’ of unique Experience
and the ‘Shade’ it’ll bring to
your already established ‘Colour’
… I’d backtrack and take both
‘Options’… although, one man’s
Incarceration is another’s Meditation.
As a child, I not only watched
people with ‘More Than Me’
without any ‘Envy’ or ‘Contempt’…
I witnessed the other kids on my side
of Life’s ‘Uneven and Unfair Table’
… ‘Descend’ LOwer into themselves
‘Weaker and Weaker’… rather than
riSING ‘Stronger’ through Discipline.
~ ‘Lunaticus’~
… ‘Curved’,
like
her
sleek
calf…
except,
with
self-harm
SCARS…
stuttering
the
gracefulness.
If
you
come
any
closer,
I
swear…
that
I
shall
set
my
‘Wounds’
upon
you.
I
Blossom
… away
from
your
reACH…
I
have
left
‘The
Shadows’
[Punctured
the
Pressure]
… and,
Searchlights
now
only
sweep
[Past]
Low-Levels…
I ricocheted off your prison wall,
bounced over each soul-trap,
taking impossible corners
at breakneck speed, oh yeah.
Tasted fast-passing clouds
as you failed at chaining me down.
Above the tree-line,
skimming over the mountaintops…
always just out of reach.
I hit each net you set
and trampolined off them,
using the stunning momentum
to augment my acceleration.
You’re chasing me on horseback,
whilst I’m whip-cracking the skies alive
with thunder & lightning bolts.
In the same race?
Not even the same game, sunshine!
‘I Jettison, Therefore I Am.’
Bobsleighing into Eternity…
and the magical excitement
of leaving that past, and you… far behind.
Paul Tristram is a widely published Welsh writer who deals in the
Lowlife, Outsider, and Outlaw genres. He wrote his first poem as a
teenager following his release from the (Infamous) Borstal ‘HMP Portland’, and
he has been creating Literary Terrorism ever since.
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