Making stupid cool again.

Well, it was a nice thought, that the consumer could influence the product, but we people are greedy, poor, lazy, desperate and stupid. Cost and Convenience are the consumers motives. It would be great to see people being more ethically motivated, but ethics are very expensive, most people cannot afford a high morality. To change the product the producer must change, and as long as money is the goal, we will maintain the destructive consumption.

Obstruction

How destructive self awareness is to art. As soon as I pass judgement upon the download, it corrupts the process so severely, I have to burn the canvas.

Heart

Many folks separate art from the artist, a process they feel is required to not slice each of their enjoyments from their life. But I am increasingly drawn to those nourishing hearts, for their art feeds in a way the heartless cannot. If I do find something new, I learn about the artist with some trepidation.

Waiting

Blue skies, sporadic cloud, each carrying a little rain, warm enough for it to evaporate swiftly. She sits in her car, she turns the wipers on as the droplets hit the screen. A car behind her honks his horn, he eventually drives around her, glaring a glare at her that she never sees. She stares ahead, waiting for the leaf to fly away.

Cynic 

As I am saturated
in sardonic comedy
I lose perspective,
I become so cyclically cynical,
with each gag an abstract
analysis of the meaningless
of expression, the humour
so mockingly fatalistic,
I fall into a pessimistic coma,
and lose the ability to
find anything funny.

Letter

Well, I wasn’t expecting a response. There are many who write, they are a focus from many beams, there is so little chance that my one leaf might fall to their feet. I built up no hope, I presumed no outcome, I assumed no fruit from my seed. I forgot I even wrote, I paid no attention to the days, had no ambition from my reaching out, never did I write their joyous replies in my dream, I burned my prospects as the letter left my hand, but why have they not replied?

Saw

I saw the ice cream today, I wondered about getting some ice cream, I imagined the ice cream in my mouth, I wondered about the flavour, I fantasised over the cold creaminess, the delicious dairy dream wafted about my mind. But I didn’t get any ice cream, I overcame my desire, I know what it does to me, it remained in the tubs. Oddly, rashes and pain in my joints arrived. Mind over matter, a perverse reverse placebo. I should have just eaten the ice cream. 

_____

 

I don’t like the word saw, I saw a bird, I saw a tree, I saw a firework, I saw an ugly word without adequate synonym. I did not detect them, nor note them, I did not perceive them, I did not spy them, examine, scrutinise, glance, glimpse or peer at them. In past tense I looked and I saw and now I wish I had never seen.

_____

I pulled a weed, I turned around and pulled another, turning back, the same weed looked up at me, I am beginning to notice this parody.

_____

Do I try a third time to glue two pieces of plastic together? I can’t recall the last time I successfully glued something together, there must be something, they sell glue in a million different forms, but it seems like a scam, a means of making mess and swear words. Nothing is mean’t to be together forever, for glue nothing is mean’t to be together for an hour, sometimes it looks like it has bonded, like those old TV ads, a steel bar sheared yet the glue remains! Glue is for gluing fingers, and giving false hope to broken things.

_____

Cascading emerald hammer beams, the correlation of textual transfers giddy on a diet of elevated thought. Peace to the mindless, the mindful, the thoughtless and the thoughtful, peace to the careful and the careless, the faithful and the faithless. Starving for attention we eat each-other’s time. Paying your way in knowledge, free to see, a blessing to be selfish, a hindrance to love.

 

Humorists

There are the comedians who laugh at I and us, ourselves, a self-deprecating centre to their soul, where we share the comfort in our humanity. Then there are the comedians who point and laugh at them and those, the different, the others. These are the bullies, who find the comfort in abuse.

 

Better late

Oh I get it now, he’s funny. Of course he’s dead now, my timing is always a little off, they died, they retired, they went disco.. always something drawing to a close as I open.

 

Golf

So we were gazing at the horizon, by the side of the road. It was a really beautiful vista. Mountains overlooking rolling fields, where trees twisted and clouds mimicked them. We stood mesmerised for a while, but our attention was taken by a muffled shuffling noise behind us, we turned around and would you believe it, a golf course was creeping across the road. Our car was parked a little way away, out of reach of immediate danger from the eleventh hole, but we still started towards the car, glancing across at the hypnotic mountainous horizon. We looked back at the shuffling fare-way as it smothered an innocent cat’s eye, we hastened our speed, we noted the flag waggling towards us. The mountains looked on superior, as in the rear view mirror we saw the golf course take more land.

 

Frustration

No I didn’t click anything, I was just trying to scroll, no I didn’t click that ad, it moved onto my finger when you loaded it late; as you intentionally do, to get these ‘accidental’ clicks. No I didn’t click to enter any password to log in, back, just go back, stop reloading the same page and go back, back you fuck, go back! I was only trying to shop. Fuck you, fuck your sticky web of robotised trickery, you digital devil’s sheath.

 

Spider

The spider was belaying from the high ceiling, they stopped around a foot above my head, still in the breezeless air. They remained there for a long time. I imagine they must have been out of butt rope.

 

Old

A ten year old asked me
‘What is it like to be old?’
He found out the very next day,
when his little brother asked him;
‘What is it like to be old?

 

Climbing a tree

I sat on a bench in the park on a warm summer day, all quiet till around three, when an early boiling froth erupted from the pub across the street. I felt discomfort in this group’s boorish drunken volume approaching, but they paid no attention to me. They ran and they stumbled and they loudly reviewed each-others attire. One large middle aged man, of around two hundred and fifty pounds, broke from the group and decided to climb an oak tree right next to where I was sat. He fumbled at the branches, his child emerging from his memories. He was strong, pulling himself up into the boughs some twenty feet in the air. As he climbed I felt an inevitability to this climb’s climax. I sat stone still and invisible. As he looked around to seek approval from his feckless diverted peers, his hand slipped. There was a picture in my eye for just a moment, of an inert pink sack in chinos, without the sense to utter a yelp, the only sound a crunching thud. Such violence in a slip, gravity is so much more potent than we expect. I did not move, I only had time to flinch. He neither moved nor flinched. As they jovially kicked at their dearly departed, I made a phone call. They made phone calls, I was never here.

 

Same

I see folks writing of age hindering their mind and body. I have not suffered this, for I have memory enough to know I could never remember things in my youth either. I wish I could retain information, I would learn another language. I wish I could remember words, to pluck them at will, rather than try to trace the word back through relating it to other places and names I can’t remember either..

 

Don’t let truth ruin your story..

Folks draw a conclusion from one piece of information they read a year ago, a vague piece of information coinciding with a wish they had, cling to this throughout the unfolding contraire truth.

 

Nope

We are incompetent
and everyone else
is an idiot. This
is why we are
depressed.

 

 

Good Mourning

Opening my eyes I see the sun has split the horizon again. I stretch a good stretch, arch my back and flex my paws, I bite at a sheath flaking from my claw. Then sit. Observing with every sense, observing the day creatures wake. The flies bob and the leaves twitch, chasing the light. The birds are singing from beyond my territory. A wisp of scent has my attention, he has visited again. The bush, the fragrant landmark, a haze of all who pass. I wash it vigorously with my own, then see if he is still around. I hear a rustle from the darkness beneath a bush, I stop, forgetting everything else I listen. Again the rustle, then a twitter from I know exactly where, so wait. It emerges in a lightning flicker, a swift spark, yet not as swift as me. it screeches in my jaws, feeding my adrenaline, aligning millennia’s rules. I let it fly a moment, it is too full of fright to think clearly. Clumsy fear. It lays still, attempting to bore me, hoping for a distant noise, a distraction to break my fragile attention. I am not hungry, it lays out there, dead under the sun, while I am purring on her lap.

_____

 

The countryside is not for those uncomfortable in the clutter, not the compulsive, the obsessive mind. The place is so disorganised. Stuff is growing every which way, in any order. Disorder distress buffets against the love of the trees trying to heal me. So tiring the balm.

_____

He was warm and cold,
hardly comfortable company,
but invigorating company.
Life itself purged via
this vial of weirded truth.

_____

‘Bird snapper.’ Have you ever heard such a term? In seeking synonym it phantomed in from someone else’s finger. An antennae, an aerial.. though they deny an aerial is an antenna, they say it is of the air, to fly and be bird like ethereal. I am probably spelling it wrong.. But bird snapper? An aerial, also a bullwhip and a probe, projection, a protuberance. These pages are a confusion of nearly meaning but not.

_____

 

Out through
my fingers
I digitise
dreams.

 

 

Good news

Every fifty years or so, there is a seismic shift in western culture. I am old enough to remember the last one, back when men were mocked for their long hair. In previous shift, women were scorned for wearing trousers. Both sexes breaking the traditions that bind them. Now I see people mocking gender fluidity, jeering at those who refuse the label given to them. I wonder if those sour souls realise the parallels to those unbending minds of the past. Stubborn age hangs on as time dismantles the flaws in our language.

 

Restraint

There is wrong, everywhere, all the time. So we have to just let the world be wrong, or go mad. Understand, this wrong is not a differences of opinion, not a perspective in artistic taste. Though of course someone enjoying some heinous mess of a record is enough to ripple your scalp. I am thinking of just plain wrong, unequivocally wrong, in all of sanity wrong, the alignment with evil. Some might be a little bit wrong, way over there, where in a moment of pause, we forget they were ever wrong and we carry on with our day. Some are so wrong they pull at the fabric of all that is good, these wrongs are usually far away and huge in scale, they hang for days, we often wonder if these wrongs could ever dissipate, but they must be released, or their gravity of wrongness will have us spinning off out into space. Time of course comes and softens them eventually, like water on rock. Some are very wrong and right there in front of us. And we think, oh karma will come, we look around and think, karma can’t wait to come for this nonsense, but then we see them double down on their wrong. Karma dawdles and we think, fuck you karma where are you? There is someone being wrong right here! OK maybe I am karma today, so ask them why they are so very wrong, and they are always surprised. For everyone is right. Even the wrong.

 

Parasites 

He has many friends,
for he has a generous heart.
He has many leeches,
for he has a generous heart.

 

Mad

Some folks are quite mad, but they are lovely people. So when they tell you their outlandish theories and beliefs, we nod and we smile. For we do not wish to hurt their feelings. Their beliefs are their foundation and comfort. Some are quite mad.

 

Nice on paper: