Poetry II

Traveller’s Tale

I have been
spat at,
and bored.

I enjoyed the trip.

On the Side

I gave a damn – oh, how I tried!
Daily newly crucified
on the altar of your pride…
I contemplated suicide,
but I had sanity on the side.

But when I found out how you’d lied
something deep within me died,
so I retreated, misty-eyed,
and though it’s something you’d deride,
I’ll hold to sanity on the side.

You see, I’ve always had to hide
a kernel of Me deep inside,
a secret, daily magnified,
an alter ego glorified:
that’s my sanity on the side.

Ward and castle, fortified,
keeping feelings locked inside –
love and poison side by side.
You couldn’t reach me if you tried,
I’ve got sanity on the side.

I gave a damn – and how I cried
even before I knew you’d lied;
but nothing harms my other bride
the one that’s hidden deep inside –
my piece of sanity on the side.

The Dark Art

Seeker after truth,
poetry is but an art –
such sweet, dark poison!

A path through the night,
shining, guiding your soft feet
through myriad minds,

through numberless souls
and catharses uncounted –
public loves and pain.

Easy to trust in,
yet perilous to believe:
all art is fiction.