Poetically Piarrot

My name is Philip Piarrot and I'm a poet. Posts drop Monday, Wednesday, and Friday at 6pm.

by Philip Piarrot

This is the last and the first all at once

I’ve come to terms with it so here I am

At the cliff’s edge, resistant to the scam

I have a few days, or maybe its months

Of all the roles in life, I’ve played the dunce

And now I am stuck, can’t go on the lamb

All bundled up in a baby’s blue pram

But storm after storm, I’m feeling the brunts

Can you imagine a way out? Yes, yes!

I could draw a warm bath and slit my wrists

Is the notion of tomorrow so fey?

Curdling milk and a floor that’s a mess

The plot slowly thickens. All of its twists

by Philip Piarrot

You can see it

There in the dark

It doesn’t smile

But you can hear it laughing

Simpering magpie

You may wish to call it

Because it does not speak

Just that slow hissing chuckle

It has been waiting

Waiting for a night like tonight

As your passions flail

Your distractions crest

Your future down the rim of the bowl

They’ve got you dead to rights

The conversation has ended

And the participants flounced with a paranoid cheekiness

It may have been days

It may have been weeks

But it ends tonight

by Philip Piarrot

The reed withers in the dusk

Intransigence scooped from the fertile eye

Flames rising ever higher

Homeland in a mélange of regret

Terse machinations reverberating...cast

Outward into a dense thicket of prone surge

At the last he readies the war-paint

Pertinence frosted over

Cold cost of things to come

With no mention made of design

Ergo no governance ready and willing

Dance in the clasped hands of twilight

Beaten back by what ranges in the dead night air

Flickering altruance is spurned

Accosted and breathtaking

Sipped from a golden chalice

by Philip Piarrot

The art of prophecy would be a bane

Solely because it would negate surprise

To see your own future with your own eyes

For tidings of darkness one would be fain

There on the precipice covered with rain

Mist coalesces, a warping of lies

What happens next is anyone’s surmise

Unless precognition can make it plain

Scrawling in ciphers and speaking in code

I have to admit I see the appeal

Of being consulted to ease one’s load

But I guarantee I don’t have the zeal

To parlay with the diaphanous spooks

by Philip Piarrot

I had a dream

I dreamt I would be a success story

Surviving the illness

It feels like I have failed

Now I am sitting here...trying to impart wisdom?

It’s foolishness

It seems I would better serve the world

If I just disappeared

I’m sure there are some

Who believe that

And their increase in number

Is why I am here.

I can’t say they’re wrong

Not anymore

I’m missing something

And it’s becoming flagrant

I am subject to many dirty looks

I am...detestable

And I don’t know why

by Philip Piarrot

They said they understood more than I know

Which caused me a bit of consternation

I knew all about the ideation

There was more to why they were feeling low

Outside of my own stuff, I’m not a pro

My thoughts would still need more elevation

Starting with resisting the temptation

To surmise about what I do not know

I do feel like I am tolerated

A sense that what I share is sheerly gray

Abnegation...I am inundated

The hidden workings of what people say

So I will ask, and I will make it plain

by Philip Piarrot

Pretending this is a labor of love Mercy, forgiveness, and all of the rest

Back against the wall, all is just a test

There is a below as well as above

So I ask you in fairness, “What’s up, guv?”

In hopes that you’ll realize that you’re the best

Have some compassion as things are so messed

Up right now. Hoping you’ll give things a shove

Even though I don’t deserve it at all

Even though I’m late to the prince’s ball

Every single time. Please forgive me

It’s in your jurisdiction, Holy See

I’m giving you this poem, so that you’ll bless

by Philip Piarrot

Connected the dots and came to the shore

Maybe the waves will succumb to my strife

Bloodied and broken, I could do no more

Combing for answers, I bartered my life

Something unbidden and hungry; it comes

A prowler of sorts that hasn’t a name

In the fell, I can hear them...sound of drums

This is the moment beyond all the blame

Silhouettes writhing in clandestine dress

I keep well-hidden and watch from afar

Connecting the dots and now what a mess

Watching them dance, my blood thickens like tar

Lumbering, huge, it steps through the portal

by Philip Piarrot

The aggregate becomes wildly inappropriate

The sedentary nature of the general misgivings

Speaks urbanite vice to all and sundry...

Living and partially broken reeds

Elicit a come-uppance that is hardly fain

They seek but they shall not find...

Overall the luster is recombinant

The glow makes markers complicit with the rest

The statistics ticker onward

One divulges one’s intentions

In an effort wholly subsidiary to the lament

You could trash the eminent data

Close your eyes to the milquetoast buffoonery

That would work for a while

But what then?

When it comes to your door?

Seek not or you shall find

Is the advice one gives

Close your eyes and focus on other things

Slap yourself silly if that’s what it takes

I’m remembering old things. Things I cannot change.

Regrets. And to what end? There is only sadness there.

I left the public milieu quite some time ago. I...

Imagine an eventual return...somehow...but how?

With well-placed words, I imagine, but the

Imagination flags. I can’t construct it in my mind’s eye

I don’t see a way through, and I talk about

The way through often...a lot, actually.

I’ve lost so much...and gained so much

Gained perspective. Lost friends.

And I don’t see a way through...not yet.

It’s there. And I cannot deny it.

But it sinks ships...plays tricks...tells lies...

With an abandon I admit that I fear

It’s playing for all of the marbles

A seriousness I wish I could emulate

And use against it. Or absolve the

Ferocity it employs and free it toward

by Philip Piarrot