Autumn Sonnet

I hate to see the woodlands flirt
In Mother Nature's annual farce.
Trees coyly lift and shake their skirts
Leave old, dead leaves to litter grass

She KNOWS the frost and snow will come.
She KNOWS the weak and old will die
But still she thinks we are so dumb,
Again we'll seek pie in the sky.

And so this weary, unloved year,
Wends on towards its death, Goodbye.
And autumn will not warm nor cheer,
It is no beacon in the sky.

a barren tundra
far far away from it all
there is nothing here

Fucking headache. Fucking genetic disposition.
Fucking wars, Sunday church bells, conspiracies
and conspiracy theories,
fucking bombs and white vans and blasphemy,
fucking death lurking around every corner, on the
110th floor or near a hovel in Bangladore;
Cerberus is a damned dog and there's sons of bitches
everywhere,
the gates of hell are never guarded, but what the hell
let's fuck and make it all go away.

You say you want forgiveness
For all of the wrong you've done
In putting the blame on me

My blood runs cold
At the thought of this
Then begins to do a slow boil

Leaving one
Seriously ill
To fend for themselves alone
Gone from sun to sun
Without so much as a call home

Undergoing so many tests
Not knowing what was wrong
I could have died at anytime
Left ill and on my own

What hurts the most
Is the lie you told
To those that offered their help