Sunday, July 15, 2012

Spitting Feathers


Spitting Feathers



Caught up in this scrap,
A ruck, a fight with life itself,
I feel exhausted and almost beaten,
Shall I fail under this pressure ?
When is it acceptable to quit ?
To accept defeat, to say under duress,
I just don't give a shit.”

Lead a good life, and for what ?
To be brought down under illness,
Suffer an untimely exit in anger,
Of the indiscriminate soul reaper.
God give me courage,
To see a brighter new enduring dawn.
A place where love never fails,
To bring beauty to its earthly form.

My own vitriol for this loss,
Is like an overwhelming storm.
I flail and grab anything handy,
For why should my soul be torn ?
Ire is a handy tool never,
It has brought me only distress.
When could I have conceived better,
Where my heart be softly caressed.

I saw flesh yielding to disease,
And could not fight with it.
In a moment of delusion here,
Thought my love could heal it.
Then in a whispering of the light,
Candle flame extinguished forever.
And you my dear brother,
Accept that we, have now lost this fight.


'Richard'