After All – A Poem

How do you turn sand into glass?
Why do I think that, as I raise my emery face, why do I turn
to the sea as if they would wait… How long have I been here? It took years to program me to ignore and believe that barbarism is society, until war for peace seemed perfectly reasonable, it’s amazing what you can do with commuters these days. How long it took to deracinate me I couldn’t say – there may be some way to go yet – I narrowed my parameters to the width of this isle, my horizons as flat as the endless sea view

I thought I would miss so much but I only
miss two things, a good conversation
and the sun

But that was then

Now when I lie down
It is hard to distinguish me
from the ground
As my limbs go green
A micro-forestry of tiny brassica polyps I lose myself in
fascinated. My skin appears to yearn for the earth
reaching like warm butter
from my bones.
I wave my way home
beneath a crack in the black sky

To hell with memory

it is the recollection
of my sins

Praise forgetting
The true miracle

How do we remember? Because it
happened. We were there. Our brain reacts
flexes synapses, strengthens neuronal bridges
like a local council
spending its sparse budget
Where most citizens cross
ignoring the rust
on the span of our
bad deeds, or the
kindness of others

So much for that

How do we forget?
Even here the poison of recall
Haunts us
We see the nothing where it was
A ghost mocks
How do we perceive this nothing
and why does the tongue of intention
Probe obsessively at the gap
of memories missing tooth

As if from nothing could come truth

I realise it is not a crack in the sky
But the last instant before I close my eye


The world is insane and I'm in writing therapy!

Tagged with: , , , , ,
Posted in Poetry
One comment on “After All – A Poem
  1. Kharma says:

    I like this a lot.

You can tell me anything (yes, even that!)

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

Enter your email address to follow this blog and receive notifications of new posts by email.

Join 804 other followers

Types of stuff
This many people
  • 21,125 have dropped by
Copyright – Rule of Stupid (c)
© Rule of Stupid 2015. Unauthorised use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Rule Of Stupid and with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.
Digital Smithy

Reading, writing and a-rhythmic tics

The Last Half

Spitting into the online ocean.

the secret's out

Deciphering my Creativity

the tao of jaklumen

the path of the sage must become the path of the hero

Bishop Eddie Tatro's Study

Wisdom from a Southern-Gentleman & Bishop

Commentality - Lotsa Comments ....

Come On In and Enjoy The Ride!

To Breathe is to Write

My World of Words

Chasing Rabbit Holes

This site is the cat’s meow and the dog's pajamas


A frustrated writer, who is her own worst enemy


Driven To Create!™


Abuse,narcissism,survival,there is hope,poetry,art,photography

In the Net! - Stories of Life and Narcissistic Survival

This is my story and I'm sticking to it!


letting it rip, my way

mobius faith imaging

person of mystery...soul dancer...quietness advocate...invisibility promoter

Knocked Over By A Feather



frightfully wondrous things happen here.


. . . down the rabbit hole


In wonder.


A broad blogs broadly on women’s & men's psychology: sex, relationships, equality

The Jiggly Bits

...because life is funny.


speaks to the masses of people not reading this blog

Fake Plastic Trees

A blog about the back of the box.


Becky says things about things and other things

Mind of a Mouse

Easily Startled, Probably Panicking

Sheila Hurst

Reading, writing, dreaming

%d bloggers like this: