Past Pains Self-Born
Daylight breaks as the mind wakes upon first breath
and swallows the punctual death of yesterday spent.
Intent now lies in the present of foreseen fading time,
just a mime a moment forward of the words we utter,
of cluttering acts we will our bodies to wonder through,
blindly we pursue the pleasures of our probing intellect
and inject our pulsing veins with poison’s vigor.
Of past pains kept we gain nothing but a taunt trigger cocked,
shocked at our own suffering unlocking lived lies
we see through slits that were once open eyes of ripe
as if a clay pipe in the petrified hands of others to hold…
cautiously controlled…a mould that meets infraction.
I lay back… smoke the cigar of sensations,
deeply cracked I find the cures I’ve been craving…
a kind of meditation in my own revelations of real
as the mind’s wheel turns my burning brain against shame
I feel…
and the game of blame ingests the same that is me.
Silently we disagree with our own visions and voices
of choices chosen by the ideals of what we’ve been
as though we have gainly grown insane by future’s unknown
we exist as calculating clones drowning in droves,
flashing our fabricated fears in circumstances self born…
torn apart by past pains kept.
We are adept by the tools of fool’s lost flame
as we proclaim in promises that we love the truth,
in ruth reality we want to believe that which we love is true,
a brew of heart’s tricks often mastered by disillusion
a failed fusion of thought’s want and need…
and we bleed…
by past pains kept we are turmoiled in trouble’s clutch
like rotating winds of repetitive failures forlorn..
touch it…break it…
you will see…
it is nothing but self born.
Copyright © Dominique Baptie | Year Posted 2010
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