Primitive Archaeology

photo credit: ▲rwed untitled. via photopin (license)

Preserved in the permafrost of time
Lost beneath the layers of deceit,
The decrepit solutions for a forgotten age.
The sage solutions, easy fixes, neat tricks.
A sticking plaster to hide the wounds
From prying eyes, and dying sighs.
 
© 2017 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.

The Sea and the Stars

 

photo credit: Vitor Pina Dancing with the waves via photopin (license)

The drama of the sea keeps calling to me,
The wild rugged coast threatens to hug me in close.

With the crash of her waves and spray in my face
The sea could reach out her arms
And enfold me within, offer me balm.

As up the siren creeps and carries me down deep,
To the dead calms beyond light of the stars.
 
© 2017 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.

Just Because I’m Quiet

photo credit: IamNotUnique Slowly we fade via photopin (license)

Sometimes it is quiet here inside my mind.
When the whirling dervish is resting
The silence can be overwhelming and yet sublime.

But usually the hubbub is frantic, frightening, and kind of hectic.
Like the clash of cymbals, a symphony of drums,
A chaos threatening to overcome.
 
© 2017 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.

Vagabonds

photo credit: haslo 324/365: Sunset Colors via photopin (license)

We were behaving like outlaws
Way out on the edge –
We’d lost all sense, all control
In the silence. In the dark –
No one to see our crimes,
The self-delusions denied.
We were lost souls
Set adrift far from the shore.
The unknown soldiers wandering far.
 
© 2017 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.

The Drifters

photo credit: Tobias Mayr Alone In The Crowd via photopin (license)

You see the drifters in the crowd
Moving against the throng.
It is easy to believe that it is the crowd
That know where the answers lie
And that is why they flow along as one.

But perhaps it is the drifters
That know where they belong,
And that is why they spend their time
Moving against the throng.
 
© 2017 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.

Datum

photo credit: linh.ngan she via photopin (license)

I’m waiting for your virtual touch –
The virtuous feeling,
Your digital meaning.
The coded transmission
Between you and my heart.
The information download
That you started.
Electrical impulses,
Laser guided
Like satellites in the dark.
 
© 2017 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.

Waiting for The Elation

photo credit: Silentmind8 _D3S9110-2 via photopin (license)

Waiting,
Forever waiting
For the elation
You promised to bring.
The promise you made
To pay the bearer
Of this broken heart.
I didn’t want diamonds,
Never asked for money or gold
For they won’t keep me safe from the cold,
But you promised a kiss.

But you left me
Waiting,
Forever waiting
For the elation
You promised to bring.
Waiting for you
To pay the bearer
Of this broken heart
With a kiss.
 
© 2017 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.

Breeze

photo credit: akigabo Open water swimming via photopin (license)

Why do you like me she said,
And I couldn’t answer.
I just knew that I wanted
Her to be at my side
For a millennium or two
While I walked down the road.
Wherever life and the breeze
Happened to take me.
 
© 2017 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.

Save

Fake News

It wasn’t a lie
Just took a risk
On a roll of the dice
And invented a different version of the truth.
The facts didn’t suit,
I’m not to blame
It wasn’t my fault,
I had to invent a different version of the truth.
If you don’t like
Where the pieces fall
Change the rules of the game
And move them all.
Stack the deck
It doesn’t matter
As long as you win.
Invent a different version of the truth.
 
© 2017 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.

Save

Save

The Deaths

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.