SLIPPING THROUGH FINGERS

SLIPPING THROUGH FINGERS

Please don’t give up on me now,

Only a fragment of the memory lingers.

Please promise, you won’t let go,

I feel like I’m slipping through your fingers.

You’ve placed me inside your unmended fences.

Can’t curse you now, without consequences.

I will destroy your vulnerable weak defenses.

You’ll pay for the wickedness of your offenses.

Fuck you!  Fuck you! Fuck you!

Am I finally getting through?

Pay the bill when it comes due - Fuck you!

I feel safe when you hold me.

Always seems to make the pain go away.

I might be getting better,

I might have forgotten my yesterday.

You think you have blunted my razor-sharp senses,

But, the cuts they leave could be quite extensive.

Don’t think for a minute that my memory lapses,

It was so much more than circumstances...

Fuck you!  Fuck you! Fuck you!

Am I finally getting through?

My memories are black and blue – Fuck you!

I don’t remember letting go.

Were you there when I finally fell?

Were you trying to catch me

As I was falling into my hell?

You promised you wouldn’t let go.

I slipped through your fingers.

THE PUPPETEERS

O, Man of mine, they will never understand.

Do not fear the future from where you stand.

Many will whisper lies into your ears.

Machiavellian words and slight-of-hand,

These dubious enfeebled puppeteers.

‘tis easy for a man to interfere,

Destroy the happiness they covet here,

Remember, they do not sleep with your choices.

They seed their lies and simply disappear,

These spurious disreputable voices.

Close your eyes, imagine your future days,

Pay attention, where your happiness lays,

Beyond their miserable comprehension,

Paying to that same tune the piper plays.

Trapped inside their despondent dimension.

Pay no heed to those who blubber and wail.

They cannot see where they struggle and fail.

They would rather undo your pride and success

Than to repair the lies their tongues avail;

And the stench of their own untended abscess.

Again, I say, they will never understand.

They will knock you down right there, where you stand,

Fill your head with hesitations and fear,

The disillusioned who try to command -

But you have cut the strings of these puppeteers.

M TERESA CLAYTON