tomorrow...
will come no matter what,
the pain will still be here -
in ever increasing measure
with it doubt and fear -
today...
can be wasted, like popcorn
in a movie theater;
a fiver on a friday night;
or gas in an suv -
depleted, it can never
be recycled.
yesterday...
a distant, floating thought
after a lingering sensation
of hope or madness, crushed
in an ice blender or diced
in hundred dollar paper shredder.
time...
is ever passing, roaring on
in ever increasing motion,
more challenging than
the Indy 500, roaring
and smashing all its opponents
against the wall mingling with
blood, sweat, tears, and oil fires.
tomorrow...
to escape the sorrow - the gall
of every single loss and ache -
fasten up, hold on, the dropp is
just ahead - scream - faster than
Apollo’s Chariot. grab hold -
of the bull and never let go.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Wow, I like it, Mark. I knew I should read on after the 'toilet incident.' You're very clever with words. Another 10 from me! Best Wishes, Marilyn