Worker #311692011291913

At the departing hour, it was time for him to relinquish his heart.

But his life had been laid on the tablet before his dying days, before his youth.

Even before his birth, his sacrifice had been pre-established

by those devils in suits with their sighing leather briefcases.

*

With saddened masks they wept for this man,

Paid him a eulogy and shook hands with his loved ones.

But with a wicked smile, they danced their way to the bank.

Rest in peace good slave.


Stephen Riordan. (Circa 2013).

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The Door

Upon the first discovery, as a child he received the sight.

The plight was unknown.

He entered into this God-forsaken world.

This magical truth of mystery and imagination.

*

Upon the second discovery, he as a young man believed it to be real.

The shifting shadows and dancing creatures half-seen mocked his attachment to his world.

It drove him half mad: contemplating worlds and ideas you could never imagine.

He searched for the door, but never could find it.

*

Upon the third discovery, as an old man the final nail was hammered into his coffin.

“It was real all along,” he exclaimed with piteous joy.

He knew it to be real.

He could now go and join the great festivities and enjoy life.

But he died.


Stephen Riordan. (Circa 2013).

Saving Myself

I was a withered soul in a young body,

Weighed down by possessions.

A melancholic spirit possessed me.

I was unfit for this life, this world of capitalism.

I never understood the people around me or what was expected of me.

I was drunk on the illusion of reality.

Then a realisation came upon me.

The problem did not exist within me, but with society.

They say she’s uncontrollable, merciless at best.

But a hunger inhabited me; a longing that spread throughout my entire being.

It intensified until one day the lion within me awakened.

I was reborn.

*

I cut my ties with the past.

The destruction of civilisation was never so beautiful.

It crumbled as I plunged myself into the sea of salvation.

Nature became my home, my companion, my life.

I had nothing and yet I had gained much more.

I found forested communes of people like me.

They became my family.

When the wind roared the trees would whisper stories.

The rivers and streams surged with life.

We lived among the animals; they were our brothers and sisters.

We painted ourselves with colours of gold and green, blue and red.

We danced under the stars to the music of our spirits.

We ate and drank around the fire; the flames were ever burning.

Our hands were raised to the virtuous moon and the enveloping sun.

We celebrated life.

We lived.


Stephen Riordan. 5/3/13.

The Soul

You can see it in the curve of a smile,

Feel it in the touch of the fingers.

It’s in the crinkle of the eyes,

And in the droop of the shoulders.

You can hear it in the joy of a laugh,

Or in the pain of a cry.

It’s in the gleam of the eyes,

And the sparkle of a tear.

It’s in the warmth of an embrace,

And the scent of the being.


Stephen Riordan. 26/10/14.