Dumbbells that were too heavy in the end
Daughter’s note, unopened, still
Decaying tea-cake still on plate
Dickie tie you wore when we first met;
Dress-suit, diamond cufflinks, pens,
die-cast cars, an unknown key, a stick of gum …
Dear God, was there nothing that you threw?
Detritus
A Floating Button
Made Of Bone
A Remnant Of Cloth
A Hair
A Frothy Chocolate
Ghastly River
Involved With An
Ever-Browning Sky!
Back To The Bone
Back to The Hair
A World Within
Spun
Down.
-Gray Squirrel
06-04-2025
The whiff of angel hair untidy
reeks a reft of detritus
with showers of glitter, confetti
raining down torrential,
on poesy of angel breath petals
amongst the roses, daffodils
and daisy chains
written on a page
cheered on by a sage,
succumbed by
the celebrant's rage
to breath excess
on angel's stage.
(A poem in Troiku style)
Detritus
blanket of decay
new life teeming underneath
it's time to crawl out
blanket of decay
in death leaves sustain new life
dust to dust returned
cycle unending
in death leaves sustain new life
dying duty done
~kcm
22 Apr 2023
Sad Detritus It In Eight
Sam Adams looked back
at the lost loves
Failed opportunities
And monolithic blues
That he concluded
Was the sad detritus of his life.
He sighed and went out
To the Cosmos bar for another drink.
Our history was written by the victors
Of holy wars from long ago;
The sacred texts, the monuments, the scriptures
The paths that lead us, tied upon the hand.
"Lift up your eyes, rejoice" they say
"Salvation is at hand!"
Deliverance is near enough
Just not when you had planned.
A blinding light that hides the scars and
Sublimates the whispers may
Give comfort to the weary.
Myopia is, at it’s best,
A way to see more clearly.
To heal the wounds and make our peace
With things we can’t control.
But truth is not a catchphrase
And the myths will take their toll.
Detritus
Sitting there, honey,
Cleansed and bathed,
Scented with lilac and rose,
Glistening at your dressing table, and
Eyeing yourself in the chrome mirror;
I, as your guest, sit by and watch,
Astonished at your well-intentioned revealings,
Seeing your young beauty at morning tide,
As hands and fingers apply the detritus,
To nineteen year-old eyes, awash in teen wisdom.
I sense there is something you want to say,
As you lean toward your reflection there,
Smearing scarlet on wet open lips,
Your unbuttoned camisole dangling loosely,
Upon your shimmering backside,
But finding a foothold upon your upturned breast.
And here I sit, astonished again,
At the perennial return of one endless ritual
After another.
Zounds!
Do you realize I cannot resist you?
Yet it makes me wonder,
If you want me to make love to you.
Yes, I wonder.
Well, shall we just dispense
With this slow dance in the darkness?
Look at me!
Zounds!
I will make you dance!
I understand we Earthlings
Seek order amongst things
An analogy with ants
Their mother wears the pants
Yet nothing parasitic
Clips her subjects ticket.
Her warriors die in battle
Not like docile cattle
Falling for a social nest
Not some pointless quest
Like double you em-dee’s
Not hidden overseas.
A faceless nation employs
Children it then deploys
With guns in hands to arid lands
Where blood stains sun-baked sands
Shaded by whose banner, oh Queen
Who lives a life so serene?
With soldiers to secure your soil
Leeching off the workers toil
Trusting to an aged tradition
Of using fear to condition:
All contributions clipped!
All clip-evaders whipped!
“But everyone’s the same,”
I hear, “…it’s just a game!”
You know we’re not just ants
Or homicidal sycophants!
Ok, let’s play by the rules,
But not those writ by fools!
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