Pythonism

writing about my life

The Hanged Man (poem)

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When they cut me down from the pedestal
I looked in the eyes of homeless people

on benches and in shop doorways
I noticed that self-same gaze

A thousand times beyond counting
I have glimpsed the eyes of Him

I wanted to scream “love me !” in the street
in my need for approval from people I’d greet

people mistrust you without the slave’s brand
saying “no-one is free like that in this land”

A force once made me start to weep and feel
but reality intervened before I could heal

Words too have become like rubbish to me
so shallow and tired like all here I see

dear God, please send me a novel dream 
to invigorate my fibres, ­to self-redeem

I am shattered among the grass and litter 
“To Hell with you all” I say, so bitter 

my own memories can yield no more sap 
the taste sucked out like gum or pap

but I can rest easy with fate for a while here
in the arms of a can of or cider or some beer

while the fools and commuters stumble past
I will bear all these dirty looks to the last

Until the music comes to its final chord
the curtain draws, revealing a tarot card

love makes us a tesseract, you mention
but what about the thousandth dimension

from whose abstract trap I can’t abscond
where I sit waiting for you to respond

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Written by Luke Dunn

May 14, 2018 at 7:42 am

Posted in Poems

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