You watch yourself move
Hands and legs.
Lips and lungs.
You walk. You wave.
You speak. You smile.
Mechanically.
By habit or construct,
The signal is sent
With no feedback
No sensation or sentiment:
Detached, disconnected,
Unfeeling, uncaring –
As if all that once lived
Inside you has been stilled
Or killed
Category Archives: Poetry
You Watch Yourself Move
Not a Battle
Not a battle but a slaughter
Limbs and pieces
Scattered across the field
In careless piles
While the survivors endure,
Slashed but standing,
Leafless and deformed,
As the attackers move on.
A Question of Happy
Is it the drinks?
The board games?
The football?
Is it the gifts?
The cake or cards?
Friends or family?
A bit of each?
Or none at all?
Vocation
Very rare
Occurence where someone
Cares about their work
And wants to do it
To fulfill an inner need
Instead of picking a career
Out of those reachable by income and
Necessity: A Calling
A Choreography of Sound
Her fingers don’t race across the strings –
They dance.
First allégro, with forceful, staccato beats
Of hammer-ons and pull-offs.
Then, lyrical, sliding smoothly
And gracefully from note to note
And chord to chord in a ballet
Of highs and lows, building
To dramatic catharsis:
A choreography of sound.
Corrupted
Data stored.
Error!
Memory corrupted,
Erased, or misplaced:
New details added, old
Turned around,
Into confusions, fears, frustrations
And tears.
twytte 