Friday, July 29, 2011

I get up, I slip, I fall

Poem by Marc Aupiais

I get up, I slip, I get up, I fall;
As the weight upon my shoulders;
Somewhat, like your world!
I am pulled down with it,
Down flight and flight,
Of stairs, I take a flight!
Upon your flight, your stairs!

And fall and fall and fall;
Down the corridor of Our Time;
And Our Love; and Songs;

And I fall;
Forgotten; in your self-love;

I fall; as air wishes past;
I, Air, recycled, in your lungs!
I, Waste, upon your disposable trash!

And I wonder, why!
You treat me thus, why so much unholy fuss!?

As you laugh at me,
Quite to my face;
By acting as though;
I frankly don't exist!

Invisibly; a character in a book;
At which you poke;
With inconsistent kisses;
The foolish-lying;
Upon the gullible;

What Are they to you?
Musician; Magician;
Actor who sells souls;
With tricks; of eye;
You win my pledge!
And upon my soul;
Inconsistency; in songs;
Death, sadness did beget!

Injustice; the mark upon;
Injustice: the mark upon:
And I fall;
Into the waiting sun;
Ashen, remains,
Seeking some Sun!
Slightest Release!

But instead,
You laugh;
And play,
With long thin pianist fingers;
My very heart!

Vibrating my soul;
As you throw it away;
It is; you say; Our Modern Way;

To please a man;
Give such hope;
Just before in him comes;
The Unholy Blade;

Not fun;

All below the sun;
Where all is undone;

That ever man or women sung!

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