Sleep and Work Shenanigans

Dizzy with sleep, he wakes at two.

Breakfast and some irn bru

To chase the sandman from his eyes.

Then on the couch, a little lie

To gather strength to start the day

That’s almost done and gone away.

A shake or two, he’s feeling better,

Opens mail, for him, a letter.

A job, you say, to start at nine?

Oh God, you moan, well, that’s not fine,

Awaking with the birds at dawn,

Not something you can depend upon.

A night-shift would be better, true.

Teenage biorhythms grew

To such extent that day is night

And night is when your mind takes flight.

So, what’s the choice? There isn’t one.

Welcome to my world, my son.

Up in the morning, work all day,

Then off to bed, take time to pray.

Set alarm and don’t be late,

Bosses don’t appreciate

Sleepy headed, idle teens

Who float through day in slumber’s dreams.

A little while and you’ll adjust.

It’s called growing up and so you must

Arise and work and earn your way.

Just think, some effort, then they pay

A pound, a few, it’s not a lot

But that’s the way life chose the plot,

Work and sleep and play some too,

Work some more, to plan and do.

Such a message to take in.

Don’t put that letter in the bin!

You start it, when? Oh, late next week.

Well, off to bed, a shock needs sleep.

When later you are full awake,

Your mind’s had time to assimilate

The hardest fact that life will give;

You have to work to earn to live.

Who Are You?

Oh, such is understanding word,

That all you read seems quite absurd.

I get the point for I have pointed,

But, say, my elbow was disjointed?

And what I pointed to was broken

Must I then speak in words true spoken?

Or does a heart ken all it sees

And bows on genuflected knees?

No, truth is quite transparent when

The washer wipes and so reckons

That all they see inside the room is not

All fear and doom and gloom.

But, measured with some point of faith,

Relays the truth and sees the wraith

That succours to a heaven sent

And knows that life is all but spent.

And then,

A future seems so much to clear,

Enamoured, fill their hearts with cheer.

But, truth be told,

There is no heart in those I here now do depart

From, endless war that is so waged.

Engaged I find and, too enraged.

This bastard life that spat

Confusion

Knows not family delusion.

A happy child, a carefree name.

Identity inside the frame

Of subterfuge and grand design

This heart is broken. ‘Tis not mine.

Pain

Enchanted limbs and perfect vision,

Acutest powers of hearing,

Wholesome body in and out,

No need for any healing.

 

But pain, it comes, and haunts our days

In many different, subtle ways.

One, it brings a babe, at end,

This pain, some say, is like a friend,

It can be cruel but moments later,

Love makes all forgotten.

 

The greatest hurt is chronic pain,

I feel, there’s no relenting.

Its powers torture all life’s parts,

In effect, it’s life-preventing.

Mental anguish torn in shreds

From sources in and out,

Debility, all encompassing,

Is worse, I have no doubt.

 

OM http://aopinionatedman.com/2013/08/02/pain-scale/  had a bit of a discussion going today on pain scale and I put in my tuppence worth. It set me thinking.

I want to dedicate this poem to http://busymindthinking.com/ because she complimented me beautifully just a short while ago and she is always so bright despite her own suffering.