Friday, February 24, 2012

The cat

Everyday I hear without fail a cat’s meow
Outside my apartment between five and seven
I go inside and see, but remember those days when
Things weren’t what they are right now. A phone call at 8 pm
Desperate and crying from a near forgotten friend
What do I do, I don’t know how to do it, advice seeking
And obtained from a senseless sage who’s travels leave him
With idle understanding of the situation
Given and taken, soothing balm. Comprehended?
Remains to be seen. It wasn’t, and that one attempt
At reconciliation, further absolving of the crime
Laid flat, warm and ironed with the imprint of
The worn edges it uses as ageless support
I hear that poor, sad creature and my heart jumps up
The mournful wails call for attention, far from love
How many hours a day do I waste playing
Solitaire on my computer? Taking great
Time and effort; stacking, organizing, and placing
Piles of cards to just have them fly back at you
All or nothing it leads up to a victory
Percentage of only eleven, to the point
That you reset before the loss just to
Stop the drop, a fall that coincides not only
With numbers but also pride, a game just for fun?
Upon those calls I abandon my involvement,
place my coat upon my shoulders and head outside
He insists upon anger, scorn, and contempt
Upon those who are not settled with self fulfillment.
Those who venture to the outside and attempt to improve
Themselves not solely on their personal merits but
The ones granted to them by prescient judges
Utter disdain and shines his altruistic beacon
On his one true path, “Constance, Dilligence!”
He cries on ears deaf ears and those willfully
Ignoring his noble warning.
He wins, by God, he wins. And holds his trophy high.
And those close by laud most abundant
But those further squint and ponder
the true essence of the commotion.
I make it outside in haste, scanning all of sight
Straining self to recover the sounds of pure fright
Honestly, what have I got to lose? It’s a choice
Between where the comfort lies and where more comfort
Remains, family, friends, and choiced love ones pertain
Petrified in a symbiotic state,alas
Choices could be easy when forces pull on sides
Splitting, like bread on a sandwich, talking smiles
Friendly faces posted, what to do? The family feigns familiar
But when arrived backstabbing and ethanol sipping occurs
In such rapid succession, daily, that you spend your days in
A corner afraid to talk, is that destination
Really providence in itself? Spirals down to nowhere
What’s yours is mine, and mine is yours
Millions made or pennies squandered. Terrible those
Who’s idealistic presence wish it wasn’t so
The cat is nowhere, the calls are quiet, and
Yet, I swear I heard them, those calls persist daily,
I never want to hear from you again, those words
Persist through everyone’s vocabulary, slurred
Speech or restless anger. No matter. The breast of
The loveless virgin still tastes sweet, though dawn and dusk
Lie in romantic harmony with each other,
Tears spilling off their cheek in bitter freedom yet
sorrow lasting eternal, licked off each other
with lustful laps exhibited by swine. Glossy
Romance, glory, beauty intwined. Unfortunate
Maybe those who stray away, who look to the white
Ceiling with it’s dried paint swelled through its own forced weight.
The cat, it never comes. Wails by day like clockwork.
How I wish I could take a pneumatic plunger,
And stun its head to unconsciousness, so that I
Could never hear those forlorn cries ever again.

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