Holler

photo credit: Ukelens Inception Selection via photopin (license)

Brain freeze, brain fade;
A hollowed out
Hollow man.
Slow unravelling lethargy,
Can’t escape,
Can’t comprehend,
This speck of dirt
That is life.
What is real,
Is it fake.
I can’t distinguish
The air I breathe
From the vacuum.
The lies
From the gravity.
The sighs
From the gentle breeze,
And I can’t hear
The deafening cries
Of the drowning man.
Nor recognise
If that man is me.
 
© 2017 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.

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Corners

photo credit: .FuturePresent. snowbound via photopin (license)

The sun
Like a memory
Returns,
To shine
A light
On those sins
We hoped
Winter’d help us forget.
Abandoned conversations,
Overgrown scars,
Lay alone.
But sun’s
Indecent exposure
Disrobes
All lost paths.
 

photo credit: h.koppdelaney Fun with her Dog via photopin (license)

© 2017 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.

Yearning to Recall

Desperation to deceive;
Yearning to recall a memory
Of something that never happened.
A shade of blue, an elusive scent,
The dance of moonlight on the water
On the night we first met.
The mythology of memory
Eclipses the truth with its lies.
 
© 2017 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.

Run

photo credit: jenny downing etched via photopin (license)

River run,
Water flows,
Always
Carrying you away
From me.

Oceans,
Silvered seas,
Raindrops on windowpanes –
Flowing away
From me.
 
© 2017 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.

Raging

photo credit: biernackip Falling via photopin (license)

Breath …

In … out …

Within the deep of the night,

The living heart of a life …

The weeping fragments …

Lost masterpiece of a dream …

Until a switch is flipped.

Support is withdrawn …

And they turn out the light.

 

© 2017 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.

Everyday

photo credit: Julien.Belli Rush hour via photopin (license)

Is this what has become of us
This everyday to and fro.
This circular existence,
Ferris wheel without a view.
Is this humdrum monotony

This weekday rock and roll,
Playing sardines on the tube –
As exciting as it’s gonna get
For fool’s like me and you.

Where’s the escape route,
Unshakeable alibi or Plan B.
What happened to the masterplan?
Is this what we got pencilled in,

Every Monday to Friday
From now until the grave.
Where’s the tequila? Where’s the beach?
Is everyday fulfilment, like for Tantalus,
A bounty out of reach.
 
© 2017 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.

Motion/Still

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The memory fades away like the rain
Or a dream upon waking.
Just a dream, even a dream of pain;
Its shadow will pass
No matter the length of the shadow cast.

It dissipates as the dawn breaks
And the sun rises even against the moon’s will.
Yes the world goes spinning on
Despite all the tears cried against the tide,
Motion wins still.

© 2017 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.

An Exhibition of Yourself

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Keep it on the inside
Don’t let your demons out.
Don’t let the buggers
See the whites of your eyes.
And under no circumstance
Let them see you cry.

Keep your upper lip stiff
And an impassive visage.
Your top button always fastened,
Your tie on straight.
Your hair neatly combed
Keep good time, never be late.

Keep your worries to yourself
And your mouth firmly closed,
Never let your monsters loose.
This is for the good of your own health.
And even when you’re drowning
Never make an exhibition of yourself.
 
© 2017 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.

Upend

photo credit: falkmo mirrored eye via photopin (license)

Turn it upside down and inside out.
View it in a different way, through different eyes
If you can. Take it apart
Like the cruel child with the butterfly
And expose the clockwork mystery of the universe
To the dispassionate judgement of the light.
 
© 2017 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.

Yo-Yos

photo credit: Gordon Oliver Wire Wool Spinning 4 via photopin (license)

You don’t have to be mad to exist here
But it helps to see the world through crying eyes.
You don’t have to be crazy to believe
But it makes it easier, for swallowing the lies.

Bitter truths, lip-service troops surging forth
Overwhelming our defences. Vandals,
Visigoths massing out there in the tomorrows
And hiding out in the shadows of yesterdays.

And will she stay?
This time, will she remain.
 
© 2017 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.