Pieces falling all around
Like ashes on a burning ruin
Such pieces as dissolve between my fingers
Once plans now soot
Once joys now ash
Once treasured now waste
Once hopes now dust
What can I reclaim amongst these cooling embers?
Dreams roasted to crisp...
Months fleeting like muddy snowmelt
On trampled, trodden roads
Wishes, like yesterday’s obituaries
Today’s street vendor’s cones
Goals, vision, the final scene!
The pen that blazed on a canvas clean
The colours that rippled and snaked and shone
The mighty eagle upon the lofty stone...
Rolled up and tucked under a sweaty pit
Puckered and spattered, smelling like shit
Is sold today for peanuts
To a smoked-up whore of a half-drunk git
Peanuts
Roasted in their shells
Peanuts
Boiled in their shells
Picked clean and eaten one by one
Then one by one and one by one
Until there was none
Of the peanuts
The shells - those useless reminders of happiness
Scraps which when you step on,
don’t even retain a crunch
Good for nothing, just no fun
Frankly, a bit smelly even...
Like dreams
Hopes and plans
For tomorrows that came
But didn’t quite come
I sit amidst these shells, these cones
Amassed, my giant, useless coffin-dome.
