The twenty-seven year bore

Ma, I’ve seen these dreams before,

from afar and terrifyingly up-close.

Seen them lived, shaken and faked,

fought for and perfectly dead;

their safety, their surety, their script

their sanity, their reality, their conceit-

I’m sorry but it’s been nothing more

but a twenty-seven year bore.

Even the truths of prophets

become unremarkable wrongs

if the taste of their proving has been

left unsavoured for long.

So when the hurricane comes flying by,

I will  get swept along,

to relearn every meaninglessness

to turn their rubbish to gold

and the weight of everything forgotten

drags me to the centre of earth.

I will return swimming in wounds

just to assure you

that, the thing we both secretly wondered about

is really true.

               

 

1921, Paul Gauguin-his life and art; Paul Gauguin. New York, N. L. Brown.

42 Comments

  1. Every line in this poem is worth quoting.
    What a fantastic find. 🙂

    Like

  2. So much pain…. so much darkness… But brilliantly so !

    Like

  3. Brilliantly and deeply soulfully stirring words, you are very good at using words to invoke emotions. This is a great posting.

    Liked by 1 person

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