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Showing posts from 2017

The Art of Letting Go (an impromptu discussion)

Of everything; and anything
To have ever been, to ever come, and to all which will one day come undone
Of everyone; and anyone
That ever was and will ever be; and to those that came undone.
Of clocks and candles; of time and age
Seamless is the transition; and nary a break in the day
Of ego and name; of pride and shame
On how you fucked, how you looked, and how fast you could run
All of which will either soon or have long since come undone
Of broken hearts and broken toys
And the pieces of which are all scattered on the floor
Of we and they; and of you and I
One of us is bound to come undone
Of love and the courage to suffer and yearn
Let your children leave you, no longer need you; and never return
Of being loved or living alone;
Whether walking on eggshells or the silence that fills up a home
Of being unheard of and forgotten; or of love that grows distant and cold
For all that you gave up or lost; and for that which you never will hold
Of me and my name.

The Art of Letting Go ₢2017 C.SeanMcGee

"Monday" - a poem or a short rant about life and death

I can feel that metal buckling And I’m not sure where or when,
Maybe now or maybe a little further on down the line.
Well that bend she’s fast approaching
And you’re running short on time,
And don't you know as luck would have it, baby so am I.
So to all the girl’s I’ve kissed
And the friends with whom I’ve drunk and reminisced
It’s never easy – not when time keeps passing by
And the end ‘aint very fair
(It's) Not like we’re ready – we’re barely there
But that don’t mean this wasn’t a heck of a ride
To all I’ve loved
And all I’ve fought
And all I’ve learned
And all I’ve taught
I’m just so fucking grateful for having been alive.
And a second, a day, a week or a year
It’s all the same to me, my dear
I’m just so glad to have had you in my life
And to all the drunks and all my friends
I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again
I’d fight for every one of you till the end
But I’m sober now, and I must reflect
For Time she's come to collect her debt
I was never much good at cards or making a bet
I laid i…

Genesis - a short story on fatherhood and the death of the artist

The father looked at his child. "What would you like for dinner?" he asked. The child responded with a crooked smile. "Your patience, your virtue, your compassion, and your servitude but not your potential; you can cut that bit off, I like you just how you are."
genesis ₢2017 C.SeanMcGee

Happy Birthday

You shall be seen only by those you have never met, heard by those of whom you have not spoken, and understood by those you do not know. In companionship we find then, solace; a kind of umbrage or abscondence from one's self.
Take Risk and Take Care,
C.SeanMcGee

Suicide

a yellow breasted bird on an old fruit tree fluttered its wings as it left what a sight to be seen; for a man such as thee on the tip of his very last breath
alas nothing grew in the garden again, not a flower; not even a weed nothing but a stone, and a wreck of a home and the roots of an old fruit tree but a day it would come, when as yellow as the sun, fell a feather from a little bird's breast for above it did flutter; with no quiver or stutter where the man and the tree lay at rest

suicide ₢2017 c.seanmcgee

Pé na Cova (one foot in the grave)

"Why wait?" I said. "Why hesitate? "What good is one day from another?" You just laughed, and slapped my back; "That's a good one," you said. "That's a real good one, my brother." And so we drank to all our worries, And we drank to all the blues. And the sun it rose in a miserable light, As we drank to all of the truths. The truths we had forgotten, And those we'd rather forget. To the ones which proclaimed us a villains, And to those which we owe a great debt. And so we drank to the end of times, To love and its inevitable end. And we stumbled off home in the wee hours of dawn, Just a prick and his miserable friend.

One Foot in the Grave C.SeanGee ₢2017