empathy

Callum Featherstone

the amputee

he’s sewn up,

sore.

and, missing;

something?

some things?

or,

somewhere?

missing.

missing; somewhat?

or, is it, someone?

a jigsaw piece;

minus it’s edge.

a garden hose;

but no hedge.

a windowsill;

without a ledge.

this fascination

with forbidden lust

is an –

amputee –

both arms;

taken;

forsaken.

and, with that being said,

he’s; still;

besotted

with a pair of gloves.

but, nevertheless,

trustily supported

by two good legs.

epiphany;

disregarded.

for, what one lacks,

sore,

one doesn’t

necessarily know

not to need

in these

matters of amour.

and,

regrettably,

one should never

overlook;

what’s beneath,

when able

to take a ride

on

romance’s

intimate see-saw.

nor,

turn their backs

on

true love’s

magnificent stampede;

in boots;

inconsiderately worn.

Callum Featherstone

What? Do you think?

What if

to err is to be human?

But, not universal?

And, we are at best

Elysian mongrels –

in a field –

of wrongful existence;

an inhumane breed

that isn’t meant.

To be?

What? Do you think?

No,

nothing,

not at all.

Despite those Janus

empirical attempts

to civilise – by both

British and otherwise.

Tasking those unfit

with tyrannical wishes

of afternoon tea,

ballroom dances

and decorum

all the while

killing both

domestic and foreign

masses. Making

“civilised” territorial advances;

civilians accosted for the

colonial-cost

of another version of history;

lost;

whitewashed.

What? Do you think?

No,

nothing,

not at all.

An inhumane answer

is cruel enough

to be considered; just.

But,

to care about one another –

is just – too much?

We; this planetary cancer

of uncompassionate

missed chances..

Founded on

beings; lost.

What? Do you think?

No,

nothing,

not at all.

On homeward soil,

does terrafirm suffering

stop?

Outward..

Galactic empathy –

would be what?

Buffering? Double-bluffing.

Never gonna happen?

Watch this space;

amass dispersal.

What if

to forgive; divine

and life’s just a rehearsal

after all?

What do you think?

If all is, really, nothing?

Yes.

Then, there’s really

nothing to lose

at all.

Callum Featherstone

A sinking feeling

The ever swelling sea

Is a discomfort blanket sloshing

Whispers woe by telling me,

“Innocent bodies will need washing.”

The rain clouds dark and dusky

Frown upon each town and city

With a thunderous tone so husky

Pitter patter has turned to pity.

Breaking banks without a penny

Snaking slalom; this rising river

Floods the hearts and souls of many

Destructive venom is delivered.

Questions for those with plenty…

Your thirst is quenched –

What remains?

A glass half full?

Or just empty?

As loss asphyxiates the gains.

Callum Featherstone

This Can’t Be Life

This can’t be life

Hours and minutes

Is it Misery’s wife?

Sadly passed til it’s finished.

Crushing disappointment

Around every corner

Now I’m a fly in the ointment

Tomorrow’s maudlin mourner.

Brutality is the common tongue

Existence is a forgotten song.

Love has been lost forever

In a society that’s broken

Future ties have been severed

Empathetic words left unspoken.