Who told you you have to be warm?

Here am I forsaken and alone

Seeking for solace from a cold stone.

I suck at it’s pap sweet milk of oblivion

Wanting an other

to do me

For me.

I’m a cold stone seeking heat from amongst the cold stones

I don’t stop despite the blisters that come from my shaking groans.

For a bit the pain feels like warmth

But soon fades and all I’m left with is the cold and the pain.

One day a whisper will creep into my mind.

I’ll distrust it at first because it’s unfamiliar

Because all the other whispers disagree

And tell me this whisper’s seductive chant is dangerous.

But eventually I’ll be forced to turn and listen

By the endless failures

By the ceaseless cold.

The whisper says:

Who told you you have to be warm?

A shiver

exactly like all the shivers I’d shivered before

runs through me

except this time it’s different.

Advertisements

A Well Intentioned god.

A well intentioned god came along and made people. He meant to be the hero but couldn’t stop being the villain.

He thought people were “good” (deep down and naturally) but just didn’t know what “good” was. He reasoned to himself that ignorance thwarted their desperate attempts at being “good”.

“A ha” he said with a light bulb above his head “I’ll teach them what “good” is!”

So he went to start and just before the first word left his mouth he realized that he didn’t know what “good” was.

What was he to do?

“A ha” he said again “I’ll find the “good”

So he searched and he searched.

He criss crossed a basket weave over all of existence and at the end of his trials he stood empty handed because “What is” when asked concerning the “good” said nothing.

“A ha” he said yet again “I know what I shall do. I shall make the “good””

With nothing to base the “good” on except his own preference he based it on that.

Of course he was more coy about that fact to both himself and the people he’d made.

He would sometimes say when asked “oh that’s good because, er, because it allows you to harvest more, or stops you being sick” but mostly he just said “it’s good because it’s good”

Once the good was set up (the people called them laws) he thought to himself “my work is done. Now they have been told what to do they can carry on without being told anymore”

Many generations of the people were born and died when he thought “I’m going to go check in on those “good” people. It will be “good” to bask in my prior accomplishments.”

So he went back and discovered it was somehow worse than he left it.

What had gone wrong?

He wiped the people out.

“Start from scratch.” he said.

So he made the people again and gave them the “good” he had made again. Now though he stayed to see what would happen.

Silently he watched from the ether. He watched and he saw.

He saw that it had nothing to do with the content of the “good”; nothing to do with what the particular laws said.

There was a surface and a depth to the application of “good”.

On the surface the “good” worked. It told people what they could or couldn’t do and what they could do to the people who did what they couldn’t.

Below that though the law had taken on another function unpredicted by him.

The “good” became synomous with trust. People trusted “good” people and they knew who was “good”and who wasn’t by looking at the law.

“All well and good, ” mumbled our protagonist “or at least it would be if some people didn’t have the cheek to disregard my “good”.

“Now there are people who want to harm other people or exploit them and I’ve given them the perfect disguise!

“They can hide behind the “good”. If I hadn’t made the good in the first place they’d have nowhere to hide and everyone would see their rapacity.

“And that’s not all! Their sacrilege knows no bounds because those very men who want to bind others to their own interests have re-fashioned the “good” as they see fit.”

He stared around him at the mess he’d made. He was about to wipe the people out again but then thought better.

“That’s enough meddling for me don’t you think?” He said through the 4th wall.

It’s easy to love an other

It’s easy to love an other

If you try

just see another brother

Looking out of their eye.

Saw a lady walking her baby

By walking I meant wheeling

and by baby a dachshund.

She had a glum expression

on her face full of tension.

So I looked her in the eyes, smiled

And lifted my brows. That got her attention.

All of a sudden a change swift as lightening

flitted through her face:

the release of the tension.

It’s easy to love another

If you try

Just see another mother

Looking out of their eye.

What did this cost me?

Just a smile and a stare

Sure there’s a scare behind a stare

what if they don’t like me

what if they don’t get me

what If I offend this cripple in a wheelchair.

But that’s all an illusion

a spell cast of confusion

to separate fellow-humans

and force constant consumption.

What was the reward?

For just a brief second

me and another mother

shared a little bit of heaven!

The Etonian Fig-Plucker

We live in an age of stupidity

When people are offended by words

But not poverty.

We elect a pig-fucking monstrosity

Whose sole intent is to ensure

The perpetuation of inequality

Coz he’s rich, you see

While you and me live in penuary

He doesn’t care about us

To him we’re just dicks full of pus

We should smack him in the face

With a red double decker bus.

This poem is about David Cameron.

This poem isn’t about David Cameron.

Look behind the puppet

to the system of the contraption

the strings that dangle us all

And shut us up with an election.

The suicidal liberation

You stand before the door

Of the beast behind the beasts

The fear behind all fears

Tear yourself away from this world

Full of its trivialities

that masquerade as significant.

You stand before the door

Of the true dragon

the fire in the breath

of the threat of the state

You’ve been given a clean slate

The filth purged by the blast

Of your desire to die.

You are now free

there is no axe hanging over your head

You’ve called the bluff of the man behind the skull

And he’s backed down by offering you palliatives

“Please don’t kill yourself” He says now

Trying to comfort you where he used to threaten you.

See who has the true power

For he is you!

Don’t take the pills

better to die with your eyes opened

Than live a life of mental castration.

Easy

I lived my life
Trying to control
But really

 
it wasn’t easy;
I struggled and strived
denied myself my…
Self. Tried to be…
someone else.

 
I didn’t know it
but the truth is
that laziness
is the way to
the truest self
expression.

 
The easiest path
is the easiest path
because
you want to walk it.

 
Everywhere
people strive
to be what they are not.

 
They live a lie of strife
a life of effort
for no reward.
No-one claps
there is no applause
and if there was
so what?

 
what can I do with applause?

 
This need we have
to convince people
to proove ourselves right
is nothing but a
struggle to hand over
our freedom to
come under
dominion.

 
See when you see
that seeing is a slow
slow journey to
clarity,

 
That
All people walk it
few of them know it
and eventually
everyone knows this.

 
If only for the moment
when your grandma dies
and leaves a wound and
you know, you
really know that
what matters doesn’t matter
that these standards
don’t matter!

 
That mattering can
smatter itself
scatologically
across the cistern.

 
That what “matters”
has placed a barrier
between me and you
between me and my family
because I fail
I try and I fail
To live up to the
Standard.

 
I feel guilt
that I’m not
what they admire
what they respect.

 
And this guilt
with downcast eyes
and stammering lips
weaves a disguise
before our very eyes
that hides from us both
the ones we want to know.

 
Not secretly
but openly
a family is fed upon
by a guilt
that restrains the lips
from uttering trivialities
and we watch
powerlessly
as our loved ones
disappear into
anonymity.

 
But death comes
and it shows us
through the tears
in the heart of the wound
that nothing matters
like we think it matters.

 
That my flaws are
just excuses for conversation
just things to say, admit
not to hide and justify.

 
That by being me
unabashedly
without restraint
is the way into the bosom of my family
because we’re all of one stock,
one blood, one lineage
let us compare notes
not give advice.

 
Let us come together
find what we have in common
uncover the stutters
and how we have dealt with them;
The social dis-ease
the low self-esteem
that doesn’t go
however we seem.

 
For me personally
it surrounds woman.
I hanker
for the female
anchor.

 
The feisty female
who
unbidden
solicits my advances;
but I stay back
because
In my eyes
I’m despised.

 
How could a woman
with hips and thighs
ever want to stare into these eyes?

 
I know,
I know,
I could wear a disguise
of adidas
and live a life
of work and strife
but that would
lead to a ball and chain
not a woman who’s mine
and who wants me.

 
Me!
Not some fiction
I create just to get
a whiff of fanny.