January 22, 2024Poem
Only the dead
losscitymusicpoliticstimelove
Only the dead
Are unencumbered
By the fear of failure
Their future is secure.
The release from struggle
Is a weight lifted
Perhaps they can find
A better frame of mind
More attuned and self-aware.
When the need arises
They will be goodness
To salt the earth
Satisfy a demand for reciprocity
So often absent in life
As the hurly-burly
Is a force too powerful
For many
To subdue.
Swept along on a tide
Of expectation
Driven to the brink
Of destruction
As desperation takes its toll
The contempt of others
A constant reminder
Of one's worth
When the worst of it lies
In the growth
Of self-loathing
The tacit acceptance
A rising tide,
As footholds disappear
Weariness becomes a slide
Into the deep
A small step
A steep fall
A gentle kiss
A long goodbye.