Seriously Speaking

 

 

Taking self too seriously

is the latest diagnosed

fault line of mine

I find too many on my own

to lightly take another’s tone

it simply adds upon the pile

of dysfunctional and infantile

things I know about myself

 

Sullen does not

begin to capture

the pain imposed

within the skin

 (it’s oh so thin)

the voices din

inside this head

compelling and dispelling

all rational thought

 of contented times

while happy rhymes

are just so hard to come by

 

There is no denying that

melancholy flows like folly

in self-destructive waves

beneath the usual facades

like lines in the sand

which will apparently

drive us apart

if stance is taken

that ties should be forsaken

and assuredly lead to the

end of these days of

wine, roses and herbal remedies

 

A flash in the pan

(despair in the can)

that sits on my shelf like

 Eleanor Rigby’s *

jar by the door

and who is it for

indeed?

 

 

copyright r.b.franklin 05/05/08

(*Eleanor Rigby – J.Lennon & P.McCartney)

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