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Support is withdrawn …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.
photo credit: Tortured Mind Dark alleys of Xibalba via photopin (license)
Plumbing the deaths
Falling to pieces,
This virus
Infecting us all.
This entropy
Interconnectivity
Escaping my soul.
This sickness
Modern madness
Crime waves
Pandemic
In the DNA
Of society –
About to tumble
And fall.
The faceless
And the faithless,
Mood music
To soundtrack
The riot.
Choreographing the violence
Over and over
Until we get it right.
Or we forget what’s right,
Loosening our grip on reality
The will to fight.
To all that is left is this decay,
Neurons misfiring
And demons crying
Over and over,
Until you get on your knees and pray.
For the seizures to free your soul
Or the inevitability;
The deaths to conquer us all.
Quote from ‘High Rise’ by JG Ballard. Art ‘ The Music from the Balconies’ by Edward Ruscha. Photo by me!
© 2017 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.
I
photo credit: Historias Visuales Viajera silenciosa via photopin (license)
I may have the words
But the music has escaped from me.
I may know the steps
But the dance has left my feet.
I may have had you once
But that was another day,
Another picture of decay.
II
Metamorphosis:
Say something else, before voices flee
Running timid from
Reality. Bleeding on these streets
For the word crimes. Passionate
Execution of the grey
And the virgin’s vision – decay.
photo credit: zeitfaenger.at Teatro abbandonato via photopin (license)
© 2017 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.
photo credit: My Son’s Halloween Costume via photopin (license)
When I was a child
I moved at the speed of light.
Like the Big Bang packaged into a cowboy costume,
Infinite energy, perpetual motion.
Now that I’m older, I am slower.
Like that mechanical bunny I’m still banging my drum
But with battery running down,
A little tatty and grey at the edges.
Then when I am old, I will just be,
I will stay where you wheel me
As long as you apply the brake.
Until one day I will wind down
To that inevitability
All energy spent, skin paper thin and grey,
Absolute zero, last breath.
But
Between now and then
There’s still a life to be lived
And while I might have put away some childish things
There’s no reason I can’t still laugh;
Enjoy life like a kid.
© 2015 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.
Originally Published 22 August 2015 Edited 16 July 2016
photo credit: notte de la luna via photopin (license)
All of this is butterfly bones,
These hopes, these dreams.
It consists of tears
Lost in a cloudburst.
photo credit: Blue butterfly via photopin (license)
© 2016 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.
photo credit: Dusty, Cloudy Libya via photopin (license)
A little less
Than it was before.
Ravaged by wind and time
Worn away by tides.
Until only memory
And dust remains.
© 2016 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.
