Sunday, 1 September 2019

I forgot to take my meds.....



A psychiatrist writes: Dr Saxon has many deep and unresolved issues
stemming from a highly dysfunctional childhood and early family life.
His psychological tumult finds expression in his brooding and
nihilistic prose and poetry. This offers but a temporary respite and
can no way lead to a permanent resolution of Dr Saxon’s deep seated
and profound psychological problems.

A Flaxen Saxon replies: Fuck off Dr Fell. You only see the portion of
my psyche which I deign to reveal.

Now for more pretentious, self-indulgent and cathartic poetry. If you ain't slashing your wrists after this one, then you are already dead.
 
    
Night and day become as one,
Unrestrained grey, endlessly trudges on.
Scant sense, no pleasure, no pain,
Humdrum certainty in a coarse domain.
 Murky shallows, indifferent response,
Ill-defined colours of no consequence.
Toneless flows of clammy pallor,
Clumsy devices of scant veneer.
Boundless detachment and callous regard,
Pitiful retort and emotional retard.
Wilted riposte to arguments feeble,
All are damned, all is ignoble.
This day was like the last,
Stretching tedium into infinite past.
The future is but the same,
Quietly driven calmly insane.
Lengthening shadows on a windswept shore,
No sense of time in a place which is amoral.
Pity the life that remains restrained,
Pity the life that is all but drained.
Dragged slowly into eternal sloth,
On a lamed charger decked in a ragged cloth.
Limpid stance in an entropic domain,
A fool to the end and fools remain.
    


6 comments:

  1. Excellent work. It doesn't move me to slash my wrists, as it actually brings to mind our Parliament; I am moved therefore to slash almost 600 other pairs of wrists...

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    Replies
    1. I do hear that there is a bit of a constitutional crisis thingy at the moment....

      Delete
  2. Forgot to take the meds OR just couldn't be arsed ?
    I am impressed by the rhyme. It strikes a chord.
    Reminds me of much missed As Mr Milligan ...

    -- The pain is too much
    -- A thousand grim winters
    -- grow in my head.
    -- In my ears
    -- the sound of the
    -- coming dead.
    -- All Seasons
    -- All Sane
    -- All Living
    -- All Pain.
    -- No opiate to lock still
    -- my senses.
    -- Only left,
    -- the body locked tenses.

    And yes, I too have seen the last word written as "tenses" and "tenser" but who gives a toss - it rhymes better. Fuck it all anyway. Another beer sir ?

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Yes Sir, another beer would do very nicely. Wise men can do what they will with words or the world for that matter.

      Delete
  3. Can I suggest an additional 2 final lines for your poem...
    -- "And if you piss on my floor
    -- I'll fucking kill you !".
    Yep, that'll do it, stick it up above the toilet.

    ReplyDelete
  4. It has merit. Mayhap I'll take your advice?

    ReplyDelete