Stinger – Fighting doubt

“The whole problem with the world is that fools and fanatics are always so certain of themselves, but wiser men so full of doubts.” – Bertrand Russell
Tickle in my brain, flying around in there
Nettle from the wings, wings without air.
Brother to it’s flight, a needle of doubt
The sting will be sure, no way out.
I flinch from the pain, it pierces my defense
Pushing without mercy, sparing no expense
I feel the poison rush, numbing as it goes
Fiercely it corrupts, putting hope in death throes
I shake myself aware, knowing I won’t let go
To pull this ugly thing out, to stop the ebbing flow
Strength from the deep, I brace once more for pain

Doubt resurrects, it’ll keep coming back again.

Also published in Wingposse, September 2012 


02212011

Wrestled Notes

“I know why the caged bird sings, ah me, when his wing is bruised and his bosom sore; when he beats his bars and he would be free, it is not a carol of joy or glee, but a prayer that he sends from his heart’s deep core.” Paul Laurence Dunbar
andreation

Simple prognosticated rhythms flow and diverge

Collapsed principles pile in crumpled beats

Pounding the seconds to say a moment

A tickled thought dances in pretend reality

Hobbled by fettered hope in surreal mist

Finding shadows that breathe life in short bursts

Life’s nemesis throttles the throat of peaceful suns

Wrestled notes become a winged song