Wednesday, January 8, 2014

Phaedrus, Brother.

Well I can't think, is the noise an echo or a reminder?
when the only way is forward?
You were with me brother,
though I held the knife,
you were with me brother,
the best friend of my life,
you saw them on their knees,
you heard their puking beggng pleas,
standards and heads were held high.
You and me against the world, kid.
Took the jibes with me
felt the blows, held the spite,
held them tight,
grist to the gin mill
the bitter pill,
swallowed, swift.
Life is a subtlety, like a sledgehammer.
What doesn't kill you,
makes you.
And me.
I loved you brother,
we were united,
we were never alone,
you were never heavy,
you could never die,
you could not live,
because you were never born at all.

Dear Diary,
Things were achieved little was lost, much was maintained, and oh, and oh dear, and Jaysis, I wrote a poem. Besides, or maybe because, it's the three R's that I could never master,

Rue, Regret, Remorse.

Why go back?
It was that kind of a day, the usual kind. The best of times the worst of times. Sure we got petrol, we ate baked potatoes, there was sufficient for drunkenness , darkness ,light, halogen, almost lightening the weigh. Things done, so many things to do. A search for truth, a will to embrace it, reflect it. A desire to do good, be good. I met a good person and I met . We all meet. We all lie to some degree, for gain, or for kindness. But we've got to stop meeting like this. Words flow from my fingers (that's a search for truth, a search for self), a gloriously tragic waste of time? No. Time can be misspent, but it can never be wasted, time is its own reward, its own downfall. 

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