Thursday, June 02, 2005

Life In Sequence

Empty arms in turning rooms of no consent:
One's self in motion interrupts to say "alone":
Builds resistance: voiceless sighs: "resent".

Hope turned soft and nudist in evening's light,
Waste wed to heartbreak no man alive can fight.

Time in the morning, time spent alone,
Waste fed by heartbeats each soul lives alone.

What's out the window? Who's on the phone?
What tells the heart it's boring to speak of what is known?

I've kept my eye on wedlock,
Grown reasons in the weeds, felt
Finish in the sudden breath inswept,
Drawn knowledge from unknowing, and duly wept.

I've seen our death in all due reasons,
Drawn blood from the wound and was proud;
Kept spite in spite of all forgiving,
Kept faith with only what my own intractable self allowed.

What went with life in sequence?
What went with life in tow?
What comes with time's hard frequence
Is someone softly saying, "See, I told you so..."

Empty arms in turning rooms of no consent:
One's self in contemplation takes chance to say "alone":
Voids resistance: voiceless sighs: Consent ...


5th draft: 05/31/05
©1980 Ronald C. Southern

"The world tolerates conceit from those who are successful, but not from anybody else." — John Blake

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Abandon hope, all ye who enter here! (At least put on your socks and pants.)