#1292 - sinking (some topping thoughts)

1292

16.vii.23

4.198

sinking

grey day poem

 

The best is the deep quiet in which I live and grow against the world, and harvest what they cannot take from me by fire or sword.

                                          –  Goethe

 

 

so many people are unimpressed with me

and it rubs off too

 

these words worthless

these pictures nothing at all

 

not hive mind

but the blowfly kind

 

many yawn and pass on

there are many more never notice at all

 

a great number of people would think my work was shit

if they ever got anywhere near it…

 

or just pointless

a waste of time  

 

some are prepared to say so too

I frequently agree with them

 

deepest winter, darkest night

so far misunderstood

 

that’s when consider falling on a sword

or out of building, under the wheels

 

not that these things would help me at all

and I don’t wish to inconvenience others

 

but such action would draw a definite line –

it’s a human right to leave off being

 

human or otherwise

not every creature has such choices

 

how often I’ve been judged unworthy

you could take up religion and make it a thing

 

even now – deep in this self indulgence

there are those who’d put the boot in  

 

how can I blame them

when I’m apt to have a crack myself

 

think in terms of a run of unluck

how that would have to turn around

 

darkest hour before the dawn

we’re past the shortest day, all that

 

cliché and pun, the stock in trade

a poetasting – one could drink a self out

 

how often I have failed to inspire

why do I bother? I’ve been asked this

 

since earliest childhood – head bashed

against wall – I lose every time

 

‘waste of space’ is my favourite sledge

it’s the anti- RUOK?

 

perhaps one just has to be realistic

all that I do must end with death

 

I’m just practising now

you can say that’s all universal

 

but I take it personally

this, my friends, it often turns out

 

is the only way to survive