A Poem on Grief Humour
Clothes strewn over, books piling up;
Wasting away in a haze,
With emptied bottles in a race,
I wallow in my misery;
As the Ashes of the past scour like a Shakespearean ghost.
Whilst this wilderness of barren hope,
Demure and robust from the grave awake,
A new seed of thought remote,
“How long can you grieve?”
As I add to the sea of wonder,
Tinging it with self-doubt,
Humanity gives a glance and walks away,
Ready to cross the parting sea,
While I miss the chance,
Despite their occasional plea.
Sometimes pushing the old issues,
Riding a newer wave of pain,
Earth and stars dying all in vain.
Yet sprouting youthful vixens who drizzle on:
“Lets start over. Everything anew one must do,”
The biggest cliché of life,
“Don’t be sad. People are poorer than you,”
Thus I embark on a journey,
Travelling to Africa and Asia,
Listening to stories of devastation,
Watching terrible things,
Yet learning not a single thing;
Apparently emerging wiser, older and lamer,
Giving endless speeches on all the vanity,
Of new found meaning,
Making no sense at all-
Consoling myself through hollow conviction,
Hearing every song that touches the sky,
Reading every helpful text under the moon,
Making best-sellers overnight,
The economics of grief never fail to defy,
Recession does a pole dance every night,
The tears of the citizens have dried.
Oh what a bore to whine,
Better to be cheap and cheerful,
And make all the growth online!
Shutting doors to new habit,
That decays like old wine,
Until, a shattering reverie awakens…
A new phase behold!
Like the flooding light in a dark room,
Good or bad, no one knows!
A change nonetheless,
Driving old demons, creating new,
A flurry of force rises from within,
With the first time rigour of youth,
Yet it remains to be seen,
Whether this leads to love or a psychiatrist!
__ _ __