Thursday, March 24, 2016

Jonathan Beale- Two Poems

The crush of days

All wedges have their thin ends.
See them, in their daily crush.

The pistons strike.
The freezing morning.

The freshly inked paper.
Coffee steams meaning on.

The pistons strike.
The freezing morning.

Cobwebs of invoice’s hang.
Silently from the night.

Expectant in the dead office.
The cleaners have blessed.

The previous day.
The silent cameras.

Whirr their private song.
To  one  another.


Until the pistons strike.
Shattering the freezing morning.
Once more.

“…and you weren’t under an undue stress, were you?”

After 12 Angry Men

the questioner.
            What gets consumed?
The white detail
            In the black

The fleeting details
have flown away.

Everything hangs
            By a thread.
And still everything hangs.

We all sit beneath and wonder
As Damocles did.
And yet forgot
Dionysius’ weight
Of decision and deed 

And then…
Before the realisation

The consequence of

What as to be done

This snaking reality
Of apathy & arrogance
And their offspring.

The realization.

As ice water in the face.
As ice water in the face.

moving on…

to face ones error
cold reality
as one faces ones error.  

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