Portraits

Thought

~ J.C. FitzDerick ~ Leave a comment

I suppose it’s inevitable

like the earth pulling sky towards you.   Dissent,
in pursuit of ascension.
Anguish laden dew lingering post impact.
Uneasy, our shoulders nervous -as an Atlas shifting his load.

Our mind the centre of elusive effort
Settled sedentary memories recalling leisure’s illegal occupation,
Ethereal abuse from figures existing in the moments between unfocused blinks.

Though with the swipe of keys and the addition of words
the sky’s smokey hue trembles a forgiving azur.
The opened hand allowing the clearing of stale air

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Drugs 

~ J.C. FitzDerick ~ Leave a comment

That’s the thing about drugs, 

They seep to your core 

a reflection of failure – the image obscure in smoke. 

I enjoy the plastered amusement. The transient pleasure exhaled in a silent  destructive whisper.

It’s all the same,  it just fizzed with a velvet stroke. 

My lungs swell     exhaling   a putrid air. 

Tonglen, perhaps,  a reversal of states. 

I’ve years yet to die. 

But I wonder if these years between freedom and cold expulsion draw nearer. 

I’m the same as the year before 

My inspiration stands unperturbed by the hanging tranquil haze. 

Can this be what it’s become?

I know it’s not.

Old eyes

~ J.C. FitzDerick ~ Leave a comment

It’s never easy meeting a fallen kindred spirit, their face reflecting your soul

For those who look

You can see the mirrored minutae of you

Often I feel they’re unseen, we all stuck looking for the reflection of our Facebook self. 

A glossed fiction unfound in others unfounded in reality. 

Still I see myself in the fleeting gloss of your lonely eye. 

It like the an old friend who once looked upon me. 

LVE

~ J.C. FitzDerick ~ Leave a comment

It’s been  while since we’ve spoke, 

I wonder…  because if stigmatised truth or dearth of substance. 

I feel it’s the subject, it turned an obscure ombre.

A minds regard of the quiet clandestine workings of a wandering eye. 

And a relative conscious. 

I read love poems of devotions and pure affection. They too like the gloss movies, a reality away from the compromises and warmth of daily love. 

In fiction it vanquishes all, but I see it beaten by jealousy, pettiness and self pity.

A sacred pantomime we all dance to, I’ve found mine but still I wonder. 

Anxiety 

~ J.C. FitzDerick ~ Leave a comment

I suppose we all think of the decisions we made   or didn’t… 

Unaware of their innate fate.  

Your days   where you’ve learned hard lessons; their impossibly unique circumstances. 

The world then lead up to the fact, 

and it still didn’t happen.

Group Chat 

~ J.C. FitzDerick ~ Leave a comment

“The way I see it is all this race stuff is a social construction, an illusion used to divide and dominate.

 If it’s constructed it’s made up by someone or some group, so we can choose to not believe it and perpetuate the lies. 

Yes we’ll still and always be in the system but we can stop adding to the delusions it creates, delusions of worth, beauty and ability. 

We having this conversation means that at the very least aware of it, 

and at best we will start to pass our awareness to others, 

slowly breaking the too long told narrative of race and worth.”

Replacement 

~ J.C. FitzDerick ~ Leave a comment

The sky ‘s a warm grey today.

I sit above it all in a leisurely replacement service. 

Tupac’s lamenting his life to his unborn love. 

I pass homes   neglected   and freshly built. 

I do try to be a good person, but wonder… 

 – A friend once told me if I wonder I needn’t worry. 

The Old Victorians hold witness to lives around and inside. 

Again I wonder if I will ever be filled

with characters and stories 

or a hushing quiet. 

I see pools of sky blue, as the grey gives way.