And So It Begins...
Trenches of my past,
these tears,
they burn
deep into my flesh,
face of my genes
Nostalgia,
sublime depression,
a sense of loss,
days gone by
that could not be kept
to present pace
The future,
my oyster,
lays tracks
across my grave,
a residual effect,
emotions lying in dust
(a friend’s aging photograph : cancer’s latest victory)
(a lover’s letters smothered in vacancies : once heated passions)
Loved ones,
the baby brother,
engaged... married
Mother, I was not prepared for this
Days gone by,
I am betrayed
in the present,
my mind,
lost in vacuums
of a past
Blissful times,
fresh,
young,
when last I kissed her,
that lover
in the letters.
Manuscripts of happiness
And then...
first calling,
first amendment to my being,
by entities maternal,
extraterrestrial
Warned was I...
such treasures never last,
falling to my knees
Six years,
eons... ages ago,
all has happened
in split seconds
of a sadist,
Father Time
(whiplash : nostalgia : backwash : deja’ vu)
He remains an aftertaste
in the continuum
of my time,
my space,
trench warfare
in the DNA of my race
©1999 Rick Smith
