Could've Tripped Out Easy

I have hidden incognito a decade in this desert,
enscounced in the Bad Lands of a wasted life,
evading both politics and the Bureau of Statistics,
immersed in maths for senseless games of chance.

I forget promises and birthdays with equal disregard,
attempt mental reconstructions of past events,
seeking the forgiveness I have no power to grant,
all my atoms expanding heirlooms of critical mass.

The gravitational attraction of lifelong frienships,
dithers perception at the horizon of a span of years,
warping the suicidal space between our arms, our minds.
I need only for you to ask that I should stay.




Poetry by Brian Oarr
Read 499 times
Written on 2011-10-11 at 15:47

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I admire the honesty of this piece, Mr Oarr.
Your words, I am sure, resonate with all of us to some extent. For who can state with sincerity that their character is perfect? And yet it is our unique flaws that are loved and cherished, all the little imperfections that make us, ultimately, perfect, if that makes sense!
The last line I find very moving; applause!
2011-10-11