The Sleeping Philanthropist

[tectak]

Damn All (or The Sleeping Philanthropist)

Damn this dawn and damn all others like it: -- great opening
Though theft of nightly comfort comes in shade,
My eyes are skinned by fingers nailed with brightness; -- this is a brilliant line
A final hoist from dreamer’s last charade. -- here the rhyme seems forced by the lack of an article, perhaps something like "that hoists me from the dreamer's last charade"?
And damn the thoughts that squeeze in through the shutters
And damn the constant hum that sounds each day
And damn each morning’s metabolic fire
That heats then soaks the sheets on which I lay.

Below, outside, above and in my senses,
The crackle, drone and din of life pervades.
All that is me is lifted from Nirvana, -- "is" twice in quick succession very subtly alters the meter, and it is only minor, but perhaps you'd consider "All that I am" instead
Then dropped upon a pathway yet unpaved.
This way and that careering blind on dirt tracks -- I need to rush "dirt tracks" to keep the meter, and "tracks" really feels like it should be on an accented beat, but here it's forced into an unnatural feminine ending
Colliding now and then with friends once true
But now are only epitaphs on headstones. -- are you sure this ought to be a full stop?
The names are gone….worn down, worn smooth, worn through.

Must I be dragged into the light of reason?
Why can’t I hold here, anchored safe and calm?
Is there great need for me to walk among you,
Administering blasé, useless balm?
I think not! Why then am I forced to leave here?
This is my solace, shelter and enclave.
In amniotic sheets I hide from living.
No soul required, hence no soul to save. -- the bitter introspection in this stanza is very effective

So damn this day that leads into the next day.
Sleep, take the present into darkest night;
Where liquid blackness kisses and caresses;
Unreal, perhaps, yet strangely apposite.
Damn all the quick and living for their fortunes
For flaunting short-lived blessings in my view
I shall not wake lest I should fall with envy
And rise no more to damn the rest of you.

tectak
Spring (Oh!Joy!) 2007

I am heartened that another can get enjoyment from this effort. It was inspired by in vino veritas conversation with a known philanthropic aquaintance who let down his defences and admitted that in dreams he despised the helplessness of those whom he outwardly cared for . This came as quite a surprise but after a few more glasses he explained. I took two years to write about him. He died in 2010 and left his total estate to an obscure charity in Ireland who helped military personnel suffering from post traumatic stress disorder.

Back to your criticismI intend kncorporating all of your suggestions but will hyphenate (an irritant to erthona) dirt-tracks. It's a brit thing.
Best,
Tectak

I really enjoyed this, and have only these few very small suggestions -- thanks for the read.