The Chill

Sat, staring at the box

Feeling envy; breeding anger

Aware of the lies, and despising them more

Loathing myself for wasting those moments

and knowing

If an advert for a hammer came on...

...I'd buy one.

Another Hope

'This too will pass' - fine old words

The art is to survive that passing

Not to be that which is past...

Not to be crushed beneath that passing

Or at least to reform and be whole; after

Not a burst and broken thing

Aaarrgh

inside

it builds

pressure

silent scream

it builds

inside

Investigate

Check it out, see what's going down...

As they gather round, huddling and roiling

A pabulum ring around a mound

Passersby rubber-neck; seeing crowds

Seeing nothing, but will say they saw if asked

They were there, passing, staring...

And eventually the lights arrive

Rapid responce, but not so rapid as a crowd...

A crowds rabid vapid responce

Slowly they part; deprived and repelled

Slowly churn and shuffle rancorously back

As help arrives a few years too late 

Vote

Not
As it makes no difference
It's all done with mirrors and smoke
A ballot's a joke
Ticking a box gives it no credence
All choices are made behind scenes
Where we've never been
And glossed up for masses acceptance
No matter what we say
A greedy few will have their way...

Counted

they took him away

cleaned him up a bit

dressed him smart, as such...

and let the folk see him

not many visited 

but mostly those that did

counted

it's important to be counted

so, they took him away again

away and down

and called it a day

and fewer visited...and fewer...

and fewer

and none

Snippet

thirsting

craving

a desire unquenched

sits and haunts behind the eyes

staining lifes view

Drought

squeezing that sponge
looking for a release
a flood of fluids

squeezing that sponge
finding it brittle
not moist

squeezing that sponge
releasing dust
shattering remains

squeezing that sponge
tighter tighter tighter
and watch the wind take it away

A reality

See them

See them swagger

Walk the walk

Talk the Talk

See them

Watch them

Not I

While I Stagger

Stumble

Mumble

Incomplete

It passes
Tock by tick
Breath after breath
And away it goes

Trailing behind
True ghosts
Haunting moments

Before...

Pains

Not growing, just constant

A stitch just under the ribs

Dull throb above the left ear

Twitches and spasms

A mess of emotions

A walking wreck

Hobbling ruin

Bile rising, stomach cramping

Another five days begin...

As it appears

Life

A series

Of interconnected jokes

Played at our expense...

...I seem

To have Lost

My sense of

Humour

Blast Off

Five pale mushrooms, garlic rubbed, butter smeared, salted butter at that,

Four mildly smoked bacon rashers, taken to the edge for a crispy rind,

Three sizzled sausages, spitting fat and hissing, brushing a burn,

Two medium eggs, salt pinched yolks, over easy as they say,

One home grown tomato, flash fried and fancy free.

A good way to end my day.

 

Thoughts

Fact and fiction

Friction and faction

Formulating ponders

From abstracted fractures

...none of it going anywhere...

Opined

Deliberated decision;

Intention selected

Cogitated, binding...

Each choice a chain

Weighing us down

De-liberated...

Spectrum

If only

There was

A little grey

In this

Black and white world

What a colourful place

It would be

Mono

Those choices

All comsuming

Never ending

Junction functions

One

Once more upon the crowded hill

Shuffled and stumbled

Pillar and post oscillation

Wondering as ever

Wondering

.

How to reach out

How to touch, be touched

.

Instead of lonely

oh so lonely

Lost amongst the masses