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SAD EYES AND SHADOWS

 Your eyes are sad and shadowy,

Red-rimmed with tears, but stoically

You set the laughter lines for me,

And knowing that you’ve been set free,

You falter at the door.

 

And you falter from our history,

Yet past is past and present too,

And your days have been far too few

To let the blisters form a queue.

Time now to try another shoe

GLASS SLIPPERS CRACKED AND THINGS WHOSE TIME IS FINISHED

Your eyes are sad and wide I see,

Vaguely trimmed with tears, but stoically

Are set the laughter lines as if agreed,

But now that frowns have been set free

They falter ambivalent history,

Back and forth like swaying wind-breathed leaves

Which are the extremities of deep-rooted, ancient tree

 

That past is past and present too

And future’s vacant canvas new,

Our days in time are far too few

For blisters to form a calloused queue,

 

Of slippers’ glass there are just a few,

Time now to try another shoe

 

But yet our days have been too many

That weaved no fabric like a cotton jenny,

A wasted coin, a single-sided penny

Which for half the price still would not buy any

Time for time to be replenished

What was the point of all the hope,

No net to catch, too thin the rope,

And getting to the other side

No circus walker attempts that ride,

A ride whose lonely fate’s soon finished

The Narrator

“In part, a paradoxical severe depression may result from actions that despite apparent sound reasoning, lead to a self-contradictory, illogical and opposite conclusions or reactions to those intended”

The Participant

Step right up to the Sideshow tent 

The Ringperson said about this event

The Show is over but the Players aren’t dead

So I paid my dues and in I went

With brightest eyes and sincere intent.

The Interlude

I’m a Saint, I’m a sinner,

Not sure which one’s the winner

Perhaps one day I’ll know

But it’s your move to shape the show

So dim the lights, fly the kites, bring in the clowns, cacophonous sounds, paper crowns on painted heads

The Show is over but the Players aren’t dead.

The Story

An each-way bet through the sliding door 

I hadn’t been told was there before

I didn’t notice which way you stepped

Perhaps you went right when I went left

But can what’s changed, change again for the worse

It seems it can and there is no nurse

To heal the wound of dreams now cursed

The chorus was broken, but now so’s the verse.

So can I close the sliding door

To repair the Players with the game a draw

But no, you’re buying one thing, not the other,

You’re in one shop, me another

I am a shadow born of Sun’s eclipse

As you pour flim flam from your truth parched lips

The Stars won’t align in your grand design

Your eyes are closed to roles re-assigned.

But can what’s changed, change again for the worse

It seems it can and there is no nurse

To heal the wound of dreams now cursed

The chorus was broken, but now so’s the verse.

 

I know I’m weak and I know I’m strong

Sometimes I’m right, and sometimes wrong

I’m on a train no end in sight

And there’s no tunnel at the end with light

 

How do I feel when I hear your voice

A perfect beginning, but you made your choice

I wonder why breaking news brings a breaking heart

When the ending was broken right from the start

 

But can what’s changed, change again for the worse

It seems it can and there is no nurse

To heal the wound of dreams now cursed

The chorus was broken, but now so’s the verse.

 

So a waste of energy this whole event

Time’s warming breath now frosted, fractured,  asunder rent

With life through the sliding door, the choices,

You can see the faces, but not hear the voices

 

I’m a Saint, I’m a sinner,

not sure which ones the winner

Neither one thing nor the other,

I’m in one shop, you’re in another.

 

But can what’s changed, change again for the worse

It seems it can and there is no nurse

To heal the wound of dreams now cursed

The chorus was broken, but now so’s the verse.

So step right up to the Sideshow tent                          The Ringperson said about this event

And back to the muddied Alley after the show          With bloodied eyes no synapses firing

Like a Teddy Bear crying

Who has no legs

It’s a long walk to horizon’s home

Perhaps the Ringperson can reverse the poem.