These Days

These days

“These are the burnt out ends of smokey days,”
we are lillac-blind, cruel-blinded by our
give-up, press-reset, fifteen-minute ways,
this life through un-acquired tastes, seems sour,

These are the stubbed-out butts of dreams, of love,
each night we kiss our kids with whisky-breath
with our stale words and lies, it’s not enough….
our bitter gift…a legacy of death,

These are, the cancer-ridden days of tears;
of drugs and dust and drought and forest fires,
in blind, cold pity we make real our fears,
look away with me as we light the pyres,

These are the fag-end days, the tipping point,
we’re done, put out the light, lock up the joint.



Filed under Poems 2007-2009, Sonnets

2 responses to “These Days

  1. Feeling T.S. Eliot inspired I see! The poetry is wonderful, especially love the last line, but I admit that I struggled a bit with the thought of ‘whisky-breath’ and ‘kiss our kids’… the contrast between utopia (kids) and dismal existence (whisky-breath) was a bit jarring. But that is what good poetry is, it wakes you up with great images.

  2. pete kelly

    This personally encapsulates how I feel, people you see around, what is reportedly thrust into you time and again, and you think someone other than me has got to notice what’s going on?
    The rhyme of this added to the rant but kept it kinda orderly, but I would say that anyway.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s