On Isolated Ground

 

     The devil, or god, or both or one

And the same struck

Me with a lame condition

That drains the brain

Of all coherent thought,

     For I have a kink

That sidesteps the predicate

And hones in on only

Each outcome each,

Elective ending and it’s like

Bending time

That folds in on every

Action – every provocative reaction

Just, to instil a sense of blame –

A pointed finger declaring

That it’s all - my own fault,

     Trying with all their might

To smite every positive intention

And it’s a condition that renders

Each and every victim,

     At the mercy

Of their own secluded self

And it’s not about deluded

Ways of being

(and yes I know the truth),

It’s about chaperoning only

Clowns upon misfortune

So that, so that,

Even in all honesty

We are made to look

Like fools

     And who’d come here

If this is all they want?

Who’d sign up for Earth

When the world conspires

To bring about another folly

Where the heart is ripped in two?

 

This kink I speak,

Has ridiculed since school

And they never taught me much,

Except how to cry upon the beatings

So the beatings stop,

     A trick to put all intellect

Down,

     Those years –

All those years have been

Nothing but imprisonment

And now I struggle

With all meaning as to why

Each being cries

When loss is written – before birth,

     For it’s like,

You have no actualization

Of your own,

     Memes come and go,

And we’re all trying to

Fathom meaning in life

When it’s strife and hardship

With only micro

Forms of exaltation

And yes I’m ranting again

Because like you,

I have learned there’s not

A lot you can do to change

The way we perceive

Ourselves for in essence

Although we’re all haggling the same

Each individual has their own experience,

And it’s not the makings of man

It’s not the makings of womanhood –

It’s become only a survival game

And I wish,

     I wish I could allay to folk

We’re harbouring our weaknesses

For fear of rejection,

But on inspecting elements of life,

We’re all doing exactly the same

But don’t let on to each,

 

     It’s going nowhere fast,

And if the past should teach us

Anything it’s how to respect

Each and every human

Born in single file,

For that is how we come,

That’s the delivery in a nutshell,

We’re born alone and in the main

We die alone,

     And we’re not crying on

Each other’s shoulder

For the hardships we endure,

We’re not talking of the essence

Of life that is taken,

     We all have something missing

And that is kin-man-ship

For every fellow human,

We’re classified

Yet ostracised,

We don’t appeal each other’s

Sense of love,  

And goodness has

All but gone

And now the doves

Have got a plague

Like the malady of man,

     They never fly

Like I, like I and many

If given half the chance,

We’ve put too many good folk

Down

     Like dogs – especially

The clowns without a choice,

And nobody has the guts to say it,

But,

     We’ve become insincere

To each -  a point past no return –

And there,

     Be the stubbornness we are.

 

No epilogue rendered here,

No smart apparel of verse,

     We’re all as stubborn as each –

Not wanting to acknowledge

The slow decaying death upon our world,

Natures calling all the shots

And I think as clowned

As I am upon my mind,

She’s had enough,

She’s had enough,

She, has had her fill

Of the selfish ways of man,

Where he cannot even share

The fragility he owns;–

 

     This mankind,

Will one day disown himself

Before the culling of this planet.

 

Michael J Waite 29^th October 2013.