A Private Conversation

I’m not assured

That how we meet

is assured and confidential.

It would be great

To meet in a more discreet

Location.

I need reassurance.

Maybe tied together  buried at night

Naked in a Coffin.

Maybe then we’ re safe

No one is listening.

Assurance,

our connection is totally

Remote from inspection.

Desperate housebinds.

I write this in memory of the privileged, luxuriant, peaceful life of the suburbs. A veritable idyll we all aspire to expect in the midst of adolescence when we bemoan it’s boredom while secretly (unconsciously) fearing the ruthless pursuit of capital we must endure to secure our future aspiration.
No Doubt the guilt conditions us to remind ourselves constantly that the world is a very dangerous place filled with lying cheating deceiving monsters who will destroy you at any moment, given half the chance (did I marry one?)
There are of course the dole scroungers who wilfully lazy, lie cheat and deceive, stealing your money to fund a luxurious lifestyle – Living in mansions with Hi Def flat screen TVs, smart phone’s – drinking and scoffing all day all at taxpayers (your) expense –
Then there are the politicians, lying and cheating and deceiving who let them get away with this outrage (nay encourage it!). They live in mansions with Hi Def TVs, smart phone’s, drinking and scoffing all day at taxpayers expense (can’t they spend our money more sensibly.
Oh let me keep it I’d do a better job.) Also we have these illegal immigrants wilfully lazy scrounging away living in mansions with HD TVs, smart phone’s, drinking and scoffing away at taxpayers expense.
And those lying cheating deceiving politicians who refuse to help the homeless get a flat and get off their backsides and work, they are a menace on the high street, I think I’ll just stay at home and watch the shopping channel or browse the inter web.
What happened to old England – it’s dead and gone (OH deary me) the place is now filled with all those cheating lying shameless scroungers, feral children, feral politicians, illegal immigrants.
(And my daughter married a foreigner(she’s not the marrying kind but he was about to be deported) he’s so nice and polite though and works hard _ The wedding was the best day of my life (but she rarely calls now, I miss her so, our little chats))
And Crime don’t talk about the menace of thuggery and theft – It’s just not safe to walk the streets. You’ll be mugged by some lying cheating deceiving punk politician – And I worry about my daughter, men are all just mad rapists now –
We aren’t safe in our own homes any more. I have to lock and bolt the doors and alarm my house – It could be broken into late at night. Will Will protect me, does he even love me any more, did he ever?
My Children are gone, my looks are gone, the drugs don’t work (look it says so here) Light a candle turn to the supplement supplement, I need to relax. Awe… I just turned into my mother (I miss her so)! Just another middle aged, middle class Paranoid suburban housewife!
They could break into the house in the middle of the night and attack you! But they never do… sigh!!
And those ecologists preaching that the world is running out, we are nearing Armageddon. They make me feel so helpless and powerless. The guilt of pursuing the western consumer dream –
Oh! When! Oh! When will I live in a mansion with a HD flat screen TV, smart phone, I just want to drink, to scoff and lie about all day.
Those climate change deniers, they say nothing to worry about, nothing can change, everything is always changing. Humanity is too puny and affect less to change our climate. Oh! They make me feel so powerless and helpless all day …..
Oh! What’s this ‘Fifty shades of Grey’- That’s a perfect description of my life – No colour but you can’t complain – There’s plenty of variety.
And they could break into your home at dead of night and attack you… But they never do (sigh).
Oh read this, look, throw out the aromatherapy, the vitamins, and just pour the fish oil over me. I can’t stand the tension any more, tie me up and whip me, see I’m afraid of being harmed so relieve my fear and harm me, Now!
Oh! The dreadful, the dreadful has already happened, What next? More of the same, I suppose?
It’s like baking a cake really- all the ingredients might be are individually inedible or nasty but mixed together in the right proportions and add enough heat makes for a sweet tasting delicious concoction that rots your teeth and makes you feel fat, ugly and superfluous.

UNDERGROUND FROM WESTMINSTER.

Underground from Westminster

Her I saw

Jet Black hair

About her eyes

Hazel deep and gleaming

The odds were astronomical

A Startling coincidence

I was going to Sloane Square

And she where.

Her eyes stared, seemed assuring

But her mouth seemed thin

Maybe if she smiled

I would have been sure.

Eating apples

The nose it may have just matured

Reading G on the district line

Girl about town.

Then again near Hanover Square

The odds seem astronomical

Will I ever have another chance

To show I care.

Remember the best goodbye I ever spent

The mole is it still there.

Sitting, stand, alight platform Sloane Square

Moving without meaning

Speechless

without reason.

The Blues

We stepped outside for a little air.

She walked back in.

I pissed off to another joint.

Later that night we met up in

a downtown hotel.

We’d both been booked into the same room!

That’s the blues , MAN!

The Gift

He had an Idyllic life, a fabulous job, well paid,
a show house with country cottage,
a wonderful doting  wife and beautiful, intelligent, grateful children.
He was a man who had everything and also seemed to be in perfect health.
So she arranged a full health screening.
Things would never be the same again!

The Worlds End.

The earth exploded – Erupted into dust – Flesh & blood was just dull spots on dust – Rocks and fragments scattered into space.  But no one noticed it – It was too much to bear, too much to take in. People had no concepts to comprehend the massive space eruption, devastation.

So we went on imagining it was still real – We got on with things, mustn’t grumble, don’t complain, what can you do. We got on with things as if they were real, though nothing was real anymore; everything had ceased to exist except our imaginations.

But fragments of memory unintegrate-able into mental constructs hinted at deconstructions of reality – A reality we cannot see but only guess at – But with no signal’s coming in we retreated into imagination, imagining the world was real and destruction unseen could be just wished away. Never here, never seen, erupted into emptiness.

Imagination is unreal reality. Who can say that the world ended when we have no more time to measure endings?

Are we dead now, are we all dead now. Just remnants of neurons, cells scattered into space remembering our impressions of a world that might have been, our ideal reality unreal peeling away from our illusions, eluding reality ceasing – mixed with destruction of everything.

Is this some psychic purgatory, a limbo, a decent into hell or cleansing all manner of cheated devotions and emotions shot out by psyches savagery.

Same time tomorrow…  Come out for revelry!