4 Poems on Boxing Day.,..

.... that have nothing to do with boxing. Ah well.



Perfection is
Imperfection, constantly
Changing, becoming
Strange, this



Nameless, we are one.
At peace, we are nothing.
Whole, we are unblemished.
Oh! For a name! A
division from the All,
The illusion of the I
Opens, offering only change.



People who keep a tally of the dead
Are not fit to stand among the living.
Each day the body counts rise higher
And our shadows grow dimmer.
False sympathy braids to false hope
In the spectral TV voice.
“Not your Son --Daughter --Father --Wife --Sister --Brother
Not you. Not yet.”




I need someone else to blame,
Someone else to take this shame.
It’s to hard to bear alone
And I’ve plum ran out of home.

I tried to love you, I wasn’t good enough:
Said I’d be true, but didn’t have enough stuff.

I’m told there’s new fish to discover:
Will someone wake me when the hurtin’s over?
I tried, too hard, to be
The kind of man you wanted to see.

But you said no, though I should see
Should just know that we could never be.