I've Cut Off My Ear, Again

Written by: Bob shank

an unexpected and unwanted child
who should have had his own basket
to float down the Susquehanna
hopefully into loving arms
rather than to drown in tears of sorrow

yet even the worst tide 
holds a treasure
beneath its murky waters
for Love dwells 
even in the ripples of hell

I knew it once
upon a crippled foundation
that stood erect when needed
a crutch that never wavered 
but even the tears have washed that away

memories, ahh such painful delight
held dear by those who refuse to let go
for to do so, is to retire
to bask in torment
finding enjoyment in a soul decaying
wanting and praying for death

it's almost here
I feel it approaching soon
over the horizon of bliss
calling, echoes of sweetness
so stubborn am I
a champion of insubordination
never one to surrender
to the illusion of peace

there used to be tranquilty
after every storm
a rainbow of sorts
painted with black and blues
on clouded closed eyes
that prayed for a better tomorrow
which seldom if ever came

fallacies of hope and faith
that produced worm infested fruit
baked into nurturing pies
their growth risen within
the yeast of alcoholic doom
cheers as we hoist the silver cup
not a spoon, mind you

a troubling recollection
from the first known photograph
a five year old, crew cut
hands folded in prayer, holy communion
nary a smile, nor sparkling eyes
but all noticed the "spock like" ears

they too are gone 
along with religions  rhetoric manure
did I really cut them off
Van Gogh would be so proud
again I've disappointed the masses
by finally growing up.............