Platitudes

Spare me trite thoughts

Life a gift

Disability a gift

Misadventure a gift

All part of tempering

An eternal spirit you say

For most there’s hell to

Pay who sit in chairs for

No better reason than

They happened to

Be born that way

 

Tell my late brother all

Your foolish platitudes

I saw the able who talked

Down to him when he could

Never walk a step and

Instead they spoke to us

Who stood upright then

As he sat huddled in his

Wheelchair shivering with

The northern chills and him

Not even old when life

Was snatched away

 

OK his speech arrived in

Slow spasmodic jerks

But he was flesh and skin

And he had status in the fold

If that was me that gift

Of life I’d find a parody

If that was me I’d want

To rage about the irony

And push away the perk

◄ Fuzzy Logic

Pre-Planned ►

Comments

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Antonionioni

Sat 4th Dec 2010 14:04

Like this as well - nice to see some well-directed passion.

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