So Much for Love and Tenderness

So much for love and tenderness,
Let’s just pronounce our depravity and be done with it.
Torn asunder our home decays,
Left to rot in the mire of discontent.
Servants and masters, serving merely to master,
These things will get us no where,
Beyond the limits of expectation,
without the voice to call forth the spirit to venture,
out toward the light that beckons,
longing, so much longing yet the circumstances remain the same but different.
Where are we?
Kinky smiles and flaccid regret constitute our meetings,
much to be said but never the silence to comprehend the meaning.
Listless and forlorn, meagre transactions of an emotional nature,
oh so tired, oh so strained and bent toward the nexus of feeling
but falling short by a fraction.
Trodden down by silent despair and mourning prayers,
beleaguered and distant, thinking far too much for process,
never going to find the right way to say the things you want to say,
for before the thoughts issue from your lips they hit the wall of apprehension and fracture; splintered and only ever momentary,
There will never be gain if you’re already losing in your mind the game that was never there to be won in the first place.
This is not a game; this is a long walk,
You stepped out of the house without your shoes and here you are,
Still struggling with the idea that you can’t go back because you have gone too far,
Forward march, on we go, treading delicately in order to keep track of the distance-slowing time deliberately or so you think-not hard enough to make footprints which would help if you thought about it.
Frosted landscapes of passive aggression goose bump flesh of loved ones once loved, chill the bones of the aged and caring whose history and philosophy is the only theory based in reality, apply as a bandaid guaranteed to heal if heeded.
We are all lost souls waiting to find the time and place to reveal the strange gifts within, they make no sense in a world that does not love, so of course it isn’t easy, painful is more accurate, so there is much to gain;
bleed wisely though, watch the wounds as you would a child, or perhaps not, we barely see them anymore, I may only see myself and forget that nothing is lost just hidden.

So Much for Love and Tenderness


Joined November 2007

  • Artwork Comments 2

Artwork Comments

  • Melissa Park
  • twistedson
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