Source: Kieran Davis
Monthly Archives: April 2017
Once Upon A Time
The world is a less exciting place
to live in now you’re gone,
I wish we had reconnected,
but I neglected you,
you, who was once my night and day.
Selected memories, poignant,
and pointedly shelved
until after the funeral,
delved into once more,
in search of ancient laughter,
and hints you believed in the fairy-tale,
despite no ‘happy ever after’.
The world is a less amusing place
to live in now you’re gone,
I wish we had reconnected,
but I neglected you,
you, who was once my hero of comedy,
the jokes, for me,
now seem in bad taste.
The waste of a life cut too short
has taught me a thought
that should not go unheard,
could be preserved in the written word,
and I keep everything,
as you told me to, for you sold me the glue
that keeps the pages of my life bound,
and the sound of funny in my tummy,
my inheritance,
other than your impertinence,
is the legacy of your laughter,
and the faith in fairy-tales – hope
in ‘happy ever after’.
Insights
I see the sights you may not see,
a blind man sees things differently,
lights that fight eternal night,
insights seen intrinsically,
I see stars in skies that she
sees as the lies, the life in me,
moribund, morbid memory,
a blind man sees things differently.
Pretending
I am the smoke and rain,
made mortal, flesh
and whispers – breathed
into existence.
I am ephemeral,
the ghost of a kiss,
someone you lost
a life-time ago.
I am forgotten, all the thoughts
you should have written down,
all the promises you made
when pretending.
I am the smoke and rain,
the private joke, made public,
a subject for the fain.
I saw the sex of subjugation,
the personification of pain,
I have become what we became,
I am the smoke and rain.
I am the smoke and rain.
Untitled (Jan 2017)
I left many ghosts in the city,
where Saturday was barely a memory,
and Sunday never happened.
The people there saw through me,
as they impersonated my friends,
milking my resources,
and supping on my nonsense,
sapping; clapping the clown.