photo credit: leavingorbit Waning crescent (2%) via photopin (license)
Spinning in the infinite
Shining forever, but always
You die. Resurrection
Is not an option,
Only entropy.
The slow descent,
Decaying orbit,
Dragging you downward
Towards a black hole
Of your own making.
© 2018 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.
Day 27 and a poem about being small and inconsequential …
photo credit: translator, artist, Renaissance scholar The Baroque poet G. B. Marino as Dorian Gray via photopin(license)
The wheel is set spinning
And the future becomes the past.
The fates have decided blindly
If destiny should treat you kindly,
If your innocence should last.
But if the universe has an underpinning,
If there is but one golden rule,
It is that the gods play dice with you.
In the end you can never win
Because whatever strategy you choose
They’ve seen it all before
They’ve predicted every score.
Because heads they win, tails you lose.
The scales of justice have weighed your every sin.
For the gods take pleasure in being cruel.
Beware for the game is rigged when the gods play dice with you.
© 2018 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.
The second day of my review of the year and a poem about the universe just going on regardless.
photo credit: mugley wet purple dawn #2 via photopin(license)
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.
photo credit: translator, artist, Renaissance scholar The Baroque poet G. B. Marino as Dorian Gray via photopin (license)
The wheel is set spinning
And the future becomes the past.
The fates have decided blindly
If destiny should treat you kindly,
If your innocence should last.
But if the universe has an underpinning,
If there is but one golden rule,
It is that the gods play dice with you.
In the end you can never win
Because whatever strategy you choose
They’ve seen it all before
They’ve predicted every score.
Because heads they win, tails you lose.
The scales of justice have weighed your every sin.
For the gods take pleasure in being cruel.
Beware for the game is rigged when the gods play dice with you.
© 2018 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.
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.
