Writers & Weirdos

You might find nothing useful here

2017.08.12

Sisyphus Decides

by Ciaran Parkes

Sisyphus decides—why not—
to let go of the stone he’s been rolling
up a hill for what seems like forever.

He falls back, onto the long grass, noticing
the deep groove his stone has made
in the hillside, remembers

how he would always get so far and then
it would somehow slip his grasp, start rolling
back the way it came, to wait for him

at the bottom of the hill. Now it tumbles
over a field he’s never seen before,
getting smaller, disappearing

into the blur of distance. He knows
this is hell he’s in, no doubt of it
with all the treasure here, the brightness

dragged down from the upper world and spread
out like scattered flowers and all the people,
doomed to torment, misery, the loss

of everything they’ve ever loved but still
looking, for the moment, almost cheerful.

2017.09.03

Before the Summer Rain

by Rainer Maria Rilke

Suddenly out of all green in the park,
something-you don’t know what-has disappeared;
you feel it creeping closer to the panes,
there, silent, bide. Just fervently and stark,

out of the wood intones the piping plover,
you think of some Hieronymus of hush:
such yearning earnest solitude and fever,
this solo sounding voice, whom waters’ gush

will soon hear out. Walls of the hall recoiled
with all their pictures from us, pulled away,
so as not to eavesdrop on us, as they might.

And reflected on the faded wallpaper now;
the chill, uncertain sunlight of those long
childhood hours when you were so afraid.

2017.09.28

Be Kind

by Charles Bukowski

we are always asked
to understand the other person’s
viewpoint
no matter how
out-dated
foolish or
obnoxious.

one is asked
to view
their total error
their life-waste
with
kindliness,
especially if they are
aged.

but age is the total of
our doing.
they have aged
badly
because they have
lived
out of focus,
they have refused to
see.

not their fault?

whose fault?
mine?

I am asked to hide
my viewpoint
from them
for fear of their
fear.

age is no crime

but the shame
of a deliberately
wasted
life

among so many
deliberately
wasted
lives

is.