July 2017

random thoughts on a Sunday afternoon

me:so I had this idea …
to write a story
but hide it inside
poetry!
not me: huh?
me: OK, sounds a bit daft but it goes something like this
Inside my poetry I will #HIDE parts of the story
and! to find out the really good bits of the story you would have to endure my shitty poetry!
not me: sounds like torture!
me: Well it is not for faint-hearted but I think I will give it a go!
not me: So how would I know which part is poetry (bad normally) and which belong to the story (hopefully better)?
me: I will plant some _clues_ throughout the poems that will lead you on the right path, there might even be links to additional content where you can find further clues. Sounds plausible?
not me: not convinced, let’s see how it pans out

running for my life

I don’t believe mental health issues
are contagious; per se
although from experience I say
that as anything you come into
contact with; it rubs off on you,
being just a revelation of doubt
or perhaps a contraption to spill
your hidden thoughts; the fear
you carried so long; buried
deep inside, now take flight,
ignites the dry autumn leaves
left in your corners aged,
your fiend – the wolf now
showing his teeth,
you either run or stop
to face the beast

nocturnal feast

Without doubting myself

excessively; nor prematurely

I can sense the grim reaper

approaching.

Shall I lock the keep

bar all entrances

or invite him in to

the nocturnal feast.

the days of thunder

the days of thunder cometh

a stampede across the plane

the broken and resisted

abandoned just the same

they carry forth desire

survival at all cost

though no one told the

leper to bring evidence

to the priests

it has begun

It was in Tel-Aviv

awkward at first but

the trust grew with time

the searching of bags

scanning of bodies

not trusting

only to keep us safe

I saw, finally.

Today again

in Paris on a

sunny day

the searching

the scanning

I did not even flinch

I know now

the world has changed

without return

to safer days

this is it

the future ahead

the days may be sunny

but the ruin of man

has begun

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