Burnt Sierra's Poetry, Abandon all hope, ye who enter here... Options

[Burnt Sierra]

Resurrection Dream - Part 1

Paris Texas taken to technological extremes
Communication without pain.
As we type
We watch you
Your movements
Your smiles
We hear your voice from our speakers
We can say
Whatever we want
No fear of reprisals
You don’t know who we are.
Are we in search of a life
Or just passing the time
One thing I know
You will live forever
Deep in my hard drive
This is my Resurrection Dream.

I like to turn off the volume
Listen to music instead
Playing along to your disembodied dance
Aimee Mann telling me I have no choice
Softly in the background
At times like this
It’s easy to believe
Your words appear on my screen
Giving me connection
You answer what I type
Who needs reality?
I can smoke without complaint
Let’s face it
You can’t smell it
My window’s wide open
The trees blocking the graveyard
Letting the spirits listen to Aimee
Whilst I feel full again.
It’s not a life
Maybe just existing
But it help’s to pass the time
Whilst we wait to be reborn
My Resurrection Dream.

[Burnt Sierra]

After a year in which everything turned, I ended up reverting to writing poetry consistently in May - specifically as a result of losing my mother to Covid (hence the previous two poems - apologies, but needed to write the emotions out of my system), after I'd spent the last five years looking after her due to being diagnosed with Alzheimer's (the largest reason I was offline for so long). Anyway, a few experiments with rhyming poems:

You'll Only Get What You Pay For

You come seeking fortune and fame
Like moths circling the flame
Every season is the same
Seeking to join the great game.

As you strive to make your claim
Though I don’t remember your name
And there is nobody to blame
When you return home in shame.

You’ll only get what you paid for
Don’t expect any more
Might get your foot through the door
But you won’t get a tour.

Don’t expect it to be fair
No matter how shiny your hair
Nobody listens to your prayer
It usually ends in despair.

I suppose I should share
That to make it is rare
But that would mean I care
And my advice would go nowhere.

You’ll only get what you paid for
Just a small chance to explore
This great game that I adore
Before you end up on the floor.

JPG, May 2020


The Cursed False Dawn Of Autumn

I’m sitting outside, just sipping on a rye
Biting down the urge to let out a war cry
Cursing the sun as it slips out of the sky
Earlier and earlier it waves goodbye.

Trying to maintain some sense of decorum
The summer dissected like a post mortem
As I fill the days to fight off the boredom
Brought on by that cursed false dawn of autumn.

Nearing the time when it turns to Halloween
Waiting for the news of the future vaccine
Aromas all around me start to convene
Roasted nuts that smell as fine as haute cuisine.

I fall into a repetitious routine
Involving hours in front of a large flat screen
As I fill the days to fight off the boredom
Brought on by that cursed false dawn of autumn.

JPG, October 2020


Not Playing With A Full Deck

Saturday night, another bounced cheque
The look she gives says, “you’re kind of a wreck”
Sadly, long gone are the days of low tech
I guess I’m not playing with a full deck.

It was a bargain I thought, cheap as chips
Clever as staring into an eclipse
I might as well start to rely on tips
Grab the pole, tap my feet and swing my hips
Smile and sway towards the beckoning lips
Dreading the moment, the lips change to whips.

Being real would cost an arm and a leg
Living on lunch of nothing but an egg
Might as well try to eat a bloody jpeg
Or I could just sit in the street and beg.

Possible I’m barking up the wrong tree
The wrong choice is almost a guarantee
My angel and devil never agree
Revert to habit and prepare to flee
Dear reader, are you beginning to see
How the cards never seem to fall for me.

Saturday night, another bounced cheque
The look she gives says, “you’re kind of a wreck”
Sadly, long gone are the days of low tech
I guess I’m not playing with a full deck.

JPG, November 2020