Hi folks, here's a wee poem I wrote a few years ago, not long after my double ostomy surgery. I found it again a few weeks ago, so what the heck, I'm gonna post it up for you folks. I call it "A Free Spirit Up for Sale". Hope you enjoy.
How can one become so broken?
Reduced to nothing but a token
of society.
Variety has been taken away,
each day the same as the next day,
a passenger on the road that was once my highway.
"Party's over, dude... catch ya later.
We're cruising off now to chase our dreams, it seems,
on the flip side... spectator."
A child of despair unable to repair
the damage that's been done,
a child on the run,
disbelief,
abusing drugs for relief.
"This non-conforming runaway
needs reforming right away.
Let's crush his soul for his own protection,
allow his bowl to flow with rejection"
and resistance,
for you failed to drown out the call
of the drums in the distance.
A free spirit up for sale
to any lover with a similar tale.
How can one become so broken?
Reduced to nothing but a token
of society.
Variety has been taken away,
each day the same as the next day,
a passenger on the road that was once my highway.
"Party's over, dude... catch ya later.
We're cruising off now to chase our dreams, it seems,
on the flip side... spectator."
A child of despair unable to repair
the damage that's been done,
a child on the run,
disbelief,
abusing drugs for relief.
"This non-conforming runaway
needs reforming right away.
Let's crush his soul for his own protection,
allow his bowl to flow with rejection"
and resistance,
for you failed to drown out the call
of the drums in the distance.
A free spirit up for sale
to any lover with a similar tale.