Holler

the third day of November and a poem about searching for identity.

Made of sticks and stones

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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Being me

When I started out
I had a job for life.
When I was young
I was wild, I was free,
I had a job for life;
Now it’s a job
Being me.

© 2014 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.

Originally Published 11 July 2014

 

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Making Your Way

The desert defines you after a while.
You become the trek
Not flesh and bone,
Like sand now
As you freeze at night
And burn in the furnace heat
Of the noonday sun.
Your identity as fluid and false
As the trick of the mirage
That guides you away from home.

© 2016 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.

Resignation

I’ve had enough.
Are you listening?
Have I got your attention?
Yes, that was me screaming.
Showing fear and agitation
As I shouted, raved and ranted,
Gave voice to my desperation.

I’ve had enough.
I’m heading for the exit
A more fulfilling destination.
I’ve had enough of choppy waters,
Of being decaying vegetation.
I found some pride down here in the gutter
Going to rebuild my reputation.

I’ve had enough.
You can keep the aggravation.
Stick it where the sun don’t shine.
I’m going home.

photo credit: Sunset Burns via photopin (license)

photo credit: Sunset Burns via photopin (license)

 

© 2015 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.

The Chameleon

Day 3 of the 30 reblogs of November and a piece of poetry written in my teens. There was once a lot more but the rest has been lost in the mists of time and this is all that remains.

Made of sticks and stones

Gheerhaets_Allegory_iconoclasm

Marcus Gheeraerts the Elder, Allegory of Iconoclasm, c.1566–1568 etching 15” x 10.4”, British Museum, London. {{PD-US}} {{PD-old}}

Who are you looking at?

What do you see?

If you look real hard

Do you see me?

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