In what will be an occasional series, I’ll be taking some of the poetry I’m creating, editing and refining and posting it for a wider audience. This is the second of two poems I wrote this week and posted on Twitter first, as I struggle to reconcile what is wanted as progress and what the world considers I have to become for that to take place.

Thank you for reading.


Turn the neck, behind to catch
heat from reflection
on a face that knows
every second counts as pain
indignity, nobody’s learning back
it’s the same, bullets to the brain
that do no damage
yet connect the dots of past
to present’s headlong dash;
you do not look back
only forward, pointless
tumbling between these trenches,
each new disaster in real time
between those lines
that other idiots were dared to cross
and by doing so, all here have lost

this took me a minute to regale
another three to edit, and by then
absolutely nothing in your image
dared to change.

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