Tuesday 22 December 2015

Accidents happen / happen / happen / happen


(This one without poet license. This one with ranting license. Beware! ) 




In a parallel universe
I would have overslept
that day
and I would have been an hour late at work
and gotten into trouble for it

but I would have been ok.

In another parallel universe
I would not have overslept
and would have been taken to the hospital
right after the accident
instead of too late

And I would have been ok, eventually.

In yet another parallel universe,
the emergency room of the hospital
would have scolded my GP,
for sending me for x-rays ten days late
Then, they would advice me to stretch my leg
as far as possible
before putting me in a cast from hip to toe

and I would have been ok-ish, eventually.

In yet another parallel universe,
at day 13,
the hospital personal would have listened
and recognised what I said and what they saw
when they removed the cast in emergency

And I would have had a last chance, to be ok, in near-ish future

In yet another parallel universe,
at day 23,
the hospital personal would have noticed
the bruises and sores and hyper sensitive nerve endings,
after taking off the second cast
and they would have acted accordingly

And I would have been ok, after 6 months, or so.

Instead of one year later
…. and going / going / going / going …..


..

Thursday 29 October 2015

Perfecting Imperfections



I should celebrate the turn of events
that broke me, accidently,
earlier this year
A grant plan in the bigger scheme;
controlling my unstoppable motion,
silencing my knee-jerk fear
of never getting up once seated

… And now I sit 

… and all I do is wonder

… How do I stand it?

… How did I?


..

Monday 25 May 2015

After all




It is a bit of a useless feeling
U s e l e s s
Contributing to nothing, really
A bit like me …
But that is a useless feeling
Eating away any lingering usefulness
Like a shadow of crows
Landing on a field of reaped sunflowers 





Friday 16 January 2015

Innocent



The rampage trail
Of the sad elephant
The flutter of a bird
Trying to be butterfly heard

The desperate reach
Of a small hand’s angle
The brightest idea
Of the bigger bungling me

We are sliding
Upwards down
We are hiding
We are hiding
Until gone

It’s the token dream
Stirring up the rarest team

It must be in this nominal class
And my pliancy of resistant mass

That
We are sliding
Upwards down
And up
We are hiding
Until we matter
We are hiding
Hiding until gone


..