Tuesday 12 July 2011

Stopped

Written by James Christopher Sheppard

And I say stop
Stop your drinking and stop your thinking.
Stop your smoking and stop your over capacitated need to complain.

This six-foot hole
will swallow you whole, no sign of the apocalyptic end
or even the celebration of continuation.

But if you stopped
what would you do? If not now, when?
Let the alcohol drown your blood or the tar crack your lung?

If I say stop
will it matter anyway? That hole is just a foot in front
Laying in wait for it’s feeding.

So if I stopped
what would I become without? If I sold all my belongings,
took my passport and left, would I find my real life after all?

The hole will gape always,
but you can creep away so long as you come back.
You can’t escape your destiny, which is that hole.

3 comments:

  1. ugh...yes, there are those that will not listen though we see the hole looming before them...and while that may not be the complete gist of your poem, that is where it hit me...

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  2. I think "Let the alcohol drown your blood or the tar crack your lung?" is such a great line!
    & I think the concpet of the hole "Laying in wait for it’s feeding." is really something.
    Overall, bleak and powerful - makes us question ourselves! X

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  3. Thanks for the feedback guys. Yeah, it's got a few layers, but the main point that we make life what we make it- and what is available to us really anyway. Should we just eat and drink and fuck? Is there anything else to do? If so, find it and embrace it before that hole swallows you up.

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