Full Circle

What more is left to say
When pretenses run amok
littering the landscape with empty echoes in their wake
clanging cymbals resembling white noise
at the end of a lazy Sunday concluded by
a movie so good the futility of an impending Monday
throbs deeper, louder, faster?

What more when poetry
leaks from the tips of fingers reluctantly
dark, veiled, menacing
Never musky with the stupor of utter contentment
okayness so deep within the bone
that there are no more triggers left
to play with
no buttons
for disarming hidden missiles, secret pressure points
no self-destruct code
soothed into mental obscurity
by cuddly kittens and caring friends?

When all necessary self-loathing, loving
indulgent loafing
have been executed, killed guillotine-style
following long, drawn-out escapades
campaigns to trouble trouble
’til trouble calms restless souls…

…and those souls now make their way back home
with their various facets assembled,
thrust into a bag
and flung over well-tried shoulders
And well-sung eyes croon epics of adventures
purchased, sold, stolen, borrowed,
bargained for in unspeakable trades,
burned to be taken to the grave
– never to the ears of an eager listener
[touch wood]?

when the primal urges of vanity
bring life full, mocking circle?
And the mirror laughs again:
Same bastard
Same nonsense
Different cast.
But oh
How it never gets old…

Copyright ©️ 2020 Tebogo Ndlovu

2 thoughts on “Full Circle

  1. Pingback: The Mystery Blogger Award – La Luna

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