Tuesday, 6 January 2015


Though disinhibition never lasts,
It vanishes and I’m left stranded,
In this place where icy blasts
Direct from cold self- loathing, leave me small and reprimanded.
No harsher critic ever handed
Down such punishments.  These contrasts
Of extremes of mood, seen in cross section seem close banded:
Though disinhibition never lasts
Neither does depression.  It casts
Its shadow for a while, but not so long that I am branded
Permanently wretched.    I don’t take pills or herbal extracts,
It vanishes and I am stranded
In the doldrums, boring, calm, and I’m commanded
To perform some useful tasks; no fasts
Or feasts just dull old peace, here where I’ve landed
In this place where icy blasts are never far away.  Of forecasts
There are none of use, still, to be candid
I am glad, although these gusts and great lambastes,
Direct from cold self-loathing leave me small and reprimanded,
Never knowingly even-handed,
Still, all three of me are harsh iconoclasts.
Some moods last days, time seems expanded,

Though disinhibition never lasts. 

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