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Typing begins
Letters and Words start to Flow
(or do they?)
But where do they come from?
And where do they go?
Who is there to curate this steady stream
of nonsense and soliloquy?
Impassioned yet Disillusioned
Stare at the flat tyre of Hope
50 miles from home
Stricken on some desolate highway
Hmm….maybe the “Bates Motel” rest stop
15 miles back
will have a phone I can use?!
I used to think that a bag on my back
and the great outdoors
was all I’d need
Only the bag was always too heavy
And I never got out much anyway
Turtling with my life
“Slow and steady wins the race”
Words echo and reverberate around
the inside of my dusty cranium
I didn’t even know there was a race
But perhaps there was
…And perhaps I was there at the start
Only I got shot by the starter’s pistol…
Either way this empty shell ain’t going anywhere
And where to go anyhow?!
Like a slow growing acorn in a Forrest of Dawn Redwoods
Everything rushes to find and occupy
any and all available space
Choked off by the rapid growing surroundings
And overtaken by the high-speed, 24/7
Life-draining, Drone-driven society
Things never did quite take root for me
On ever shifting sands
Soil stripped bare of nutrients
In the fight to hammer out
A barely adequate existence
Straining beyond breaking point
Adorned with everything greedy little paws can set upon
All of life’s “Jewelery and Make-up”
Make you a pretty little prostitute
So shake your “money maker” on the street corner
You know the one
At the crossroads where you have to choose
between right and wrong
So you show some thigh
and pout your lips
and flutter your eyelashes at every passing ‘opportunity’
Go ahead
See if you can get a ‘good’ price for your soul
As everything that’s good inside you withers and dies
And all in the pursuit of something
Nothing more than
“Mediocre”
A word which to me describes the colour of boredom
A kind of middling brown
About the same colour as all the shit that’s floating around
Because this world filled up with it far too quickly
And it seems that no-one ever learned to flush
“What’s the point?” – some say
Others – “Why not?!”
“Where did this all start?”
“When will it ever stop?”
I have some minor talents, sure
Just don’t ask me to name them
And I don’t seek abject fame or glory
Just something nice to frame them
But when every effort gets blown away
You need to stop and take a look around
If you’re in the middle of a storm
Fair enough, you’ll have to try to ride it out
But when I looked all I thought was
“Hey, who’s that guy with the shotgun?”
And another thing…
Whoever it was who said:
“You’re not a victim of circumstance,
Just of you’re own decisions”
Would obviously have no sympathy for some like Anne Frank
Or the thousands of starving children in Africa
…given that it was clearly their own stupid fault
for choosing to live there…
But that’s just me
Protagonist
or simply agonist
If I can provoke some kind of response I will
For better or worse
…“Motivational”…
I’ll tell what’s motivational
Absolutely nothing
— (or is that ‘what war is good for’?!)
But do you know why people say
“you have to play the cards your dealt”?
Because if they convince everyone
that Life is a Game (like Poker)
…Where success is based upon your ability
to lie, cheat and steal
All whilst remaining calm
looking at someone
and smiling to their face
whilst you stick
a knife in their back…
Then they can pretty much do what they like
And not have to feel guilty
Right?!
I mean what a way to ensure
the total collapse of
decent, civilised and moralistic values
Pitch everyone in this world against one another
Battle Roayal
The winner is the one left standing at the end
Only no-one is allowed get off the island alive!!
Why don’t we teach kids this in schools huh?
Just tell them the truth?!
…why?
Because some sick bastard(s) realised
That it’s even more fun to see
How long it takes the dumb shits
To figure it out
…13 years old, standing there
lunch box in one hand
intestines from the knife wound across their stomach in the other
“I just wanted to be friends…”
They manage to whimper before dropping to their knees and keeling over…
…
“Too far!” – you say
…
Well yes okay, perhaps this rant has plummeted
To some depraved and desperate levels of despair
When really all it was meant as
Was a way to clear the air
From all of this smoke around me
So that perhaps again I may
Breath
And see the light
and the beauty of the Natural World
around me
And this was only meant to be
A Stream of Consciousness” experiment
But I think
…like a fisherman looking out to sea,
seeing several Dark and OmminousTM patches…
That it serves as a warning
To proceed with Caution
And to strongly reconsider
whether it is wise or not
To go Sailing at all?!
Better instead
To ‘Turtle’ in bed…
Let the pangs of the fantasy of action
and the hunger for satisfaction
fade and subside
Yes they may rise again soon
and this whole crazy cycle
can begin again anew
And perhaps again
provoke you to write (or do)
something else
which means nothing
And the pathetic,
lustful longing for significance
can be crushed once more
by the heavy, meaty boot
of this thing called “REALITY”
…
So watch the skies
and watch this space
as I consider that
perhaps it is a good thing
that I will see my therapist again,
tomorrow!
hats off to the insane 