The Alternative
by
Lyle Berry
(Age: 61)
copyright 04-02-2003
Age Rating: 18 to 127
Picture Credits:
The Alternative
There is always that viable alternative.
Chaos ruling, I cannot cope any more.
The Reaper rides Fate’s Tsunami
and inundates my beleaguered brain -
waves pound in crescendo against my skull.
Worries are sharks that rend my soul;
emotions gobbets of tattered flesh.
I do not live now; I merely exist
in seething terror
of another day
just like this one.
I am strangling on the bitter kelp of reality.
I am drowning and wasted in the jagged reefs
of my fear’s black harbors.
I am sinking
for the third (and final) time.
Dear God! I don’t want to be here!
I have recklessly sloshed my blood
on the canvas of the irrevocable
and painted myself
into this inexorable
and horrible
seascape.
I have only the painter to blame
you know…
I cannot point a wet finger at God,
Life,
Fate,
or any other scapegoat.
The relentless ebb follows the flow,
and the alternative
(inescapable)
simply lies there,
cold and blue
in the trunk.
Waiting.
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A lot of your poems make me feel that way,
shaking, tossed, dropped a thousand feet.
I end the reading with a tear and a sigh,
then wishing there was more, tell me why?
There is not too many left that can write this way
You may be the reasaon that I can not go, so I stay.
Wild ride on this one old friend