Ball Out Of Play

There’s a game that people play but I don’t get it;

it’s called take offence when none intent is there.

I’ve seen it all, enacted in my family,

with exes; dearest siblings pulling at their hair.

It’s a power sort of game that leaves a flavour;

a bitterness that tastes of dank decay,

when wealth of hate showers forth in spittle

but not for any words they had to say.

It’s for being who you are but they don’t like it;

like you’re happy and they can’t believe that’s real,

so the vitriol or silence seek to thwart it,

expunge the love, let crusty scabs not heal.

It’s a game I see in work and with companions,

as if life is just too easy so let’s fight;

a soap opera to my reality, really,

I don’t get it! How can this attitude resemble right?

Naivete has always been my virtue

and my vice as well, if truth be told at last;

I never comprehend that I’ve offended

for it’s the last thing that I’d seek, so always ask.

I’ll move my knight to your rook and I’ll ponder

the route to trap and check the king, no vice,

I’ll throw the dice and play the cards and wonder

if betting on the game is worth the hellish price.

I’ll move my dog and hope that I collect some

prize or fund for playing my game fair,

but changing rules, anarchic games that some love,

are way beyond the bet I’d ever dare.

There are bastards in this world, please don’t doubt it,

I know god loves them just as much as me,

but I decline to play the games they’re playing

and leave, I hope, with vestigial dignity.

I’ll watch from sidelines when my friends are challenged,

I’ll bite my tongue and pray for some control

but never when I see a bully smirking;

I’ll jump right in and save that goddamn goal.

The penalty of those who play this game; you know,

the one, where winners there are none, or broken souls,

is loneliness forever, never reaching,

destitute in spirit; fragmented whole.

Innocence Injured

No callous thoughts

Nor cold intent

Should dwell where love’s

Been freely spent.

 

Unequalled pleasure

Can’t decry

Where love was known

Though, by and by,

 

Treasured moments

One time enthralled,

Glimpsed afar,

Now unrecalled.

 

Bitter hearts

Disclaim, with voice,

Past memories

As if no choice

 

Had taken part

In ending all,

Hostile relations

After the fall

 

From grace and trust

Where love was living,

Recollections

Unforgiving.

 

They passed this way,

Once hand in hand,

A surer love,

No wedding band

 

Could so unite

The two apart,

Where love once dwelt

Lives broken heart

 

And cordial calmness

Claims surrender,

Harsh words, contempt

Sever, dismember,

 

Leaving nought

But recollections,

Remembrances,

Bittersweet perfection.

 

Imperfect memory

Chills to the core

All treasured moments,

Never more.

 

Coupled collapsing

Feels dismay,

Abysmal distrust,

Love cannot stay.

 

They grieve their loss

In strangest manner,

Vindictive, cruel,

A jealous rancour.

 

These people are

Still known to me,

I watch

And listen carefully

 

And ponder how

A love once sown,

Grew then withered,

Split to the bone.

 

Words, then endearing,

Draw blood, now bitten,

Fragmented love

From two once smitten.

 

Divided, riven,

Torn apart,

Indifference chills

But where to start

 

When coldness turns

To malevolence

And hurts and robs

All innocence?