5 Poems By Dru Trioxide

A Lack Thereof Just what’s in it for me? Tell it all if you please … Saddened to see the intricate politics Of your heart’s desires – Played out in such involved wiles. Though you were so much better at Conviction and condescension, I am made painfully aware of our shadows – Dancing, whiling playfully away from my grasp. Last chances a thing of the past. Wanting nothing more than everything, This pearl’s my world to share Just what’s it worth? More than the oil that works your policy of lethargy – Apologetic guile and knowing smiles? More than the gold that hangs from your neck young heretic? Blessed blasphemer of these treasures, Spin me round again and tell me of the returns I can expect … Tell it again to me please, Make me believe … Carol Fell She’s walking, talking, Spinning round, wronged again … Never enough is Daddy's little girl – for this world’s full of pain. Chief conspiracy theorist They’re all involved to wreck today. Lost with no map, can’t get anywhere in this town … Life spent watching – waiting No chance out of fear Hearing little other than personal Perverted psalms – read in and redefined by Experience and shouted words:     You’re not good enough     I’m never good enough she says. Playing with boxes and cords all day long Brings insight, vision inside the reason why everyone’s in on it … They’re making the sky fall down around me, Till I’m full, Till I’m fed up and placed in Sunday’s best to make the good impression on them … They, Those boys were once mine she says, Then they were found out by their father, THE father. Righteous hypocrite Devil’s advocate He’s the king of them all, the first and final reason why she’s so fucked up, So lost, and never enough. Shades Sometimes I think of you, Nostalgia some would say – Pining for lost laughs and ideals that have grown beards since we first made friends … I think of times and things shared, Of your new life as you’ve made it, And changes I’ve brought to our table; A place once ribald with the flavor of untold feasts. Then Famine … Treachery and/or perhaps Felony Against your once fellowman. I’m guilty of ALL – Always being myself; selfish, selfless, self-effacing embellishments … Times and trials like few have seen passed before our eyes as if we were kids in a candy store my father owned … Lords in a world without limits, Populated with vassals to play with. What else could be more fun? Then exonerated by time to join the masses. What happened to the excitement generated by our camaraderie? Played out like the last act in some thoughtless production, The last page … Such respect is difficult to forget. Perhaps it’s best to glance you happy in passing, Nodding hello with a smile more for our memories than the apparition before you. WE. Intimate strangers on different paths … Subversive No restraint for the aforementioned. A pause – that specious glance of concealment, In the world according to Garland that is, Judy and Christmas tinsel; It tickles me melancholy Seems unwitting sense of duty brings the Derelict commitment of ideals that Flail and crease the mobility of identity. Certain the parting of ways amidst the Dapper noble bedfellows Refracting cathartic glee in sallow disguise, Word to the wise: Say it for them – the Toiling Say it for them – the Children Driven upon the stakes of arrears, Clearly pantomiming cultural discord, Shirking the disheveled wariness that clings to the guilty … Repent with me … No compromise. Welcome Reminder So again out of the blue; A pleasant surprise – better than the last time. I wonder if I’m the wrong kind of curious… I question chance recollection, Memory being such a subjective thing. Was the timing all that was wrong? The bad times faded yellow and much of the rest absolved, Hollow words no longer constantly replayed Analyzed, synthesized Packed and resting not so quietly in the file marked To be continued. Back to Table of Contents Email this article to a friend Copyright©2001 by Dru Trioxide. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the publisher.