Sunday, November 16, 2008

Reloaded -07/11/2008

What I can’t walk away from,
Limping my way from the table,
That trekking handbook sitting there,
Like a wheelchair to be climbed out of again.

So I’m doing it again.

You’ll have to drag me out of these mountains,
On a broken knee-joint,
On promises,
Or knee-jerks reactions,
To slip out,
The door without leaving a note,
Of concern,
Regret or common sensing,
That back home,
His conscience can rest,
In semi-retirement.

That the man’s gotta do,
What a man’s gotta do,
Damned fool idealistic crusade,
Proving something,
To an inductively falsified audience,

Undulating to the sound,
Of the death dance,
Too Human,
All too easy,
Pieces of the cake to eat too.
And damn you.

I know, I know,
You won’t try and stop me,
Not again,
You know better,
And knowing that I don’t,
I know,
I can hear you,
In your stubborn not saying,
Of stupid things like:
Stay safe.

Try another tact,
Like- I dunno mate,
Just… bring that hat back to us,
If nothing else,

Just keep that flat-capped cangoe safe.



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