Poetry – Is there meaning here?

Is there meaning here?
I stare into space
oblivious to all
but my own numbness,
hoping for a call -
a beckoning voice
to draw me back
from the edge
of my self-imposed exile.
Drop the feathery gauze
from these old, battered lenses
and push me
if necessary
out of the warm niche
carved long ago
in this mount of regret.

Poetry – Playing Dirty

Where I come from
blood and names mean nothing
and sworn oaths even less. 

But prized most of all
is that old art
of playing dirty -
so dirty
no one else
can even see the game.

- marandarussell.com