Life's pendulums once strongly swung
by Michael Walkerjohn
released each soul to fate
to its chagrin time's Ides did send
chills subdue as memory relates
intense, the anguish of such returning
swinging to and fro elates
today one's breath is just a hiss
as living's joy is scrawled to slate.
Fist's grip succumbs to weary grasp
as upon time's arm you cling
subtlety being that ane beyond control
realization's miff it is so ousting
fate's brisance, one of release
inertia binds a life against its sting
sneer molds the face, a masked grimace
such sight is eerily stirring.
One's drink, when so compared to life
expression shown it be bitters
urge in herb and unquenched thirst
your dyspneic draw sum's botha
living's muse, time's circling ennend
certain firsts to Ibn Yunus' betas
plurge ablution's hand me downs
senses stained shape life's bouquet.
Weariness, the strain on thoughts and limb
alas the putrid epopt
tests resolve of spirit's clade
presumption mists of spittle swapped
salvation calls, ictus now begun
the choice of swing proves uppity
strength slays a will's commute
essence in awe is self co-opted.
Swilling fleer reflects mind's mirrors
astride this surreal Faucault
Ephialtes crept upon one's back
that cirth denies this pendules' hault
corruption's ply unyieldingly wound
its release listening ears auscult
conundrum curst, the world's awhirl
self survivals key a soul's envault.
Pictured thus one lifelong mess
hidden not from qusguous qued
in vivo the repetitious asking lays
phaeic answers so resolutely due
living's yawn is incessantly drawn
from the swingy lump that's you
entelechy of all life dies
pendulum stalls, and now...
your time is nearly through.