"Well slipping an sliding mostly, mate!"
But if it is the remains of your flatmate's morning shower,
or the alcohol induced comment in the bar,
it is very much about how you get up again,
and less about whether you poured toothpaste all over the walls,
laughed at the expense of your very good friend's poor dating choices.
Are you going to clean up the mess you've caused,
as you see the pain in her eyes, remembering very well
the bottles of wines, the tea cakes and the tears,
knowing that even healed wounds leave scars, if they were deep enough.
Life doesn't stop and wait; unfortunately,
whether you refer to physics or common sense,
time does not give you an option to go back and do B, C or All the above.
Most of the time, you'll find that I don't know,
and Repeat would be well good.
There are three kinds of persons:
those who think long and hard about the decisions they make,
those who are adamant on avoiding choice,
until eventually they are made for you,
and then we have the people who slip into choices.
What peculiar psychiatric traits or exhilarating flaws
these three types of people exhibit, is irrelevant:
Fear, lethargy, optimism, rationality,
or a pair of dice in their pockets
- surely one dice would suffice, Sally, for chance and fate to meet.
In no way, would I suggest that sliding lacks purpose
simply because of the haphazardness of slipping
or that the finish line would have less charm,
although it might be trickier to spot at a distance.
In fact, it can be quite a stride of its own:
acknowledging that informed decisions rely on fictive rationality, and
that whatever comfort fiction has given you in form of children bedtime stories
you only really know how to grab on to the bathroom sink,
grab the cleaning detergent,
tell her she's the most beautiful woman in the world
and hope that next time her boyfriend cheats on her,
you will be close enough to beat him up.
Poetry by Angie-M
Read 972 times
Written on 2011-09-18 at 02:35
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Slipping an sliding
Slip and slide, that's how I would describe the last three years of my life.But if it is the remains of your flatmate's morning shower,
or the alcohol induced comment in the bar,
it is very much about how you get up again,
and less about whether you poured toothpaste all over the walls,
laughed at the expense of your very good friend's poor dating choices.
Are you going to clean up the mess you've caused,
as you see the pain in her eyes, remembering very well
the bottles of wines, the tea cakes and the tears,
knowing that even healed wounds leave scars, if they were deep enough.
Life doesn't stop and wait; unfortunately,
whether you refer to physics or common sense,
time does not give you an option to go back and do B, C or All the above.
Most of the time, you'll find that I don't know,
and Repeat would be well good.
There are three kinds of persons:
those who think long and hard about the decisions they make,
those who are adamant on avoiding choice,
until eventually they are made for you,
and then we have the people who slip into choices.
What peculiar psychiatric traits or exhilarating flaws
these three types of people exhibit, is irrelevant:
Fear, lethargy, optimism, rationality,
or a pair of dice in their pockets
- surely one dice would suffice, Sally, for chance and fate to meet.
In no way, would I suggest that sliding lacks purpose
simply because of the haphazardness of slipping
or that the finish line would have less charm,
although it might be trickier to spot at a distance.
In fact, it can be quite a stride of its own:
acknowledging that informed decisions rely on fictive rationality, and
that whatever comfort fiction has given you in form of children bedtime stories
you only really know how to grab on to the bathroom sink,
grab the cleaning detergent,
tell her she's the most beautiful woman in the world
and hope that next time her boyfriend cheats on her,
you will be close enough to beat him up.
Poetry by Angie-M
Read 972 times
Written on 2011-09-18 at 02:35
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text| Texts |
 by Angie-M Latest textsI don't remember growing upDebris A moment Slipping an sliding Mother Earth |
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