Tomorrow

So here we are.

Tomorrow has become today.

Yesterday’s uncertainties have resolved themselves

And are we on our way to a brighter day?

I am the stuff

Upon which destiny masticates

and now sit;

Spat out and indented

Happy and unhappy

Soaked in the saliva of love.

Onwards we go

To the bigger tomorrow to come

See you there, my friend

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Yo, Destiny.

Yo,
Destiny?
How is it going
With you?

You’re looking
Quite stony-faced
Today
And I’m not sure
I understand.

I thought that
I could dance with you.
That we were friends
And you would show
Me a good time.

But I am starting
To suspect
That might not
Be your way.

Only yesterday
You spoke in epic terms
Of promise and the
Future to come

Painted glowing pastel
Dreams of
Grand and cosmic
Alignments and
Myriad good things

I misunderstood.

I always misunderstand.

The path you lay for me
Is stony and hard.
It is penance –
Bloody hands and knees.
Poverty and misery
Abject
Tears of shame.

This
Is your familiar warm embrace
Destiny.
But yet
Always
I run willingly
Into your arms.

I Ride Tsunami

I’m so confused

Mushed, mashed,
Made whole yet diminished
A tumult of emotional contradictions
Which unsettle me yet
I revel in their wondrous glow.

I’m going to sail seas on
This surfboard of confusion
Alone
And enjoy the ever-changing view
For this is life
In all its capricious excellence

Here there be meaning
Even if
I’m not sure what it is.
What I do know
Is that the blood that is
Flowing
Through my being
Is the blood that is supposed to flow
It is blood with origins
In my moment of
Formation
It is the blood of my destiny

And destiny should
Never be thwarted or
Ignored
No matter how inconvenient.

Therefore
Today
I ride Tsunami

Dreams Die Here

Dreams die in places like this
They gasp and stagger
And collapse in writhing
Hurt

These dreams once were
Free to run through
Forests and meadows
And to bask in the dappled light
Of the late morning sun

But ambition took
Those wary dreams
To a place called work
Dreary little hovels with polystyrene ceilings
Strip lights
And carpets of pure function
And not form

And in these places
Greed, malevolence
And hatred breed
Like bacteria in the dark
Recesses of the toilet bowl
Poison
For a beautiful dream

Slowly the poison takes a hold
And the dreams die.

 

Twitter Is Killing Me

Time was
When
My mind was free
To roam
To choose delights
Upon which to settle
Free to contemplate
Deepest mysteries
Of philosophy
And our world

That is
Because she had
Time.
She was the
Mistress of her own
Delectation

She might spend hours
Pondering the meaning
Of a single word
Or a fleeting instant
Dismissing the collected
Works of Immanuel Kant

I lament.

For now, in each moment
Where she begins
To ponder
Where she settles down
To contemplation,
As if on a sofa
Before a fire
Alone
With a good book,
She is interrupted
By the persistent
Whine of social media
For attention
For her attention.

Causes!
Products!
Outrage!
Humour!
The noble
The trivial
The mundane.

Ironic therefore,
That she has chosen to use
This medium
To share this rare
Example of considered
Thought

But she’s only trying
To warn
Those of you
Who use it most
Before it is too
Late