Here’s another one from my Substack burblings in response to a suggestion that one should go out and get what one wants.

I’d say that going after what wants is all very well, as long as you don’t want much.

*

I only get what I want

 if I want what I get

Much of what I’ve wanted  

I’d prefer to forget

Wanting what I get

hasn’t failed me yet

But wanting what I want

has led to regret

Of getting what I wanted

And the corresponding debt

So if I get what I want

now with guilt I’m beset

What I want is often dangerous

And it poses a threat

‘Cause I’m a victim of addiction

now I want a cigarette

*

I have spoken proudly of this before. It’s a very underrated survival technique. Especially in a world where everyone encouraging you to care deeply about almost everything, it is hard to maintain a positive position of not really caring very much about anything.

Rather than carefully ponder a response to the barrage of questions that always, in one form or another, ask, “what do you think of that?” and come up with a carefully considered, politically and culturally aware answer, it’s much more satisfying to respond with the words,

“You know what, mate? I couldn’t really give a fuck.”

Happiness is not to be found in the ups and downs of an emotional life, but in the flat line of blissful negligence.

I wrote the following as a response to a Substack post. I spend time on Substack taking soft swipes at people – which I suppose is a contradiction to my declared ambivalence. Inconsistency is another virtue. I’ll write about that at another time. If I feel like it.

*

Happiness, that passing curse

The good times that make bad times worse

The tide comes in, the tide goes out

With nought that you can do about

Cool water lapping round your toes

The joy that comes, the joy that goes

With light and dark, with night and day

Never any other way

Sunset follows every dawn

Leaving you confused, forlorn

So don’t be fooled, don’t take a chance

Stick with pure ambivalence.

 

 

 

It’s only subtle. Insidious may be a better word. But I’m finding it increasingly difficult to string more than a few sentences together these days. I have not failed in a writing competition for quite a while, however, having opted for the financially prudent tactic of not entering one.

I have scratched out a few lines that occasionally pretend to rhyme in response to others. But they are definitely getting worse, having already started from a low base.

But here’s some of them anyway, just for the record.

****

A nautical fellow named Frank

Took to sea in an old water tank

In there he hid

‘Till he opened the lid

And it filled full of water and sank.

*

There’s a spider crawling on the wall

I hear you calling will it fall

Upon the bed? Such dread

Spreads through your head

That with eight legs might thus be wed

I hear you thinking after all

That you might hold me close instead

Now on the floor a herd of ants

A military style advance

A target deep within your pants

And plans to make you squeal and dance

Should I upon them promptly prance?

Or give the beasts a fighting chance?

On the ceiling paint is peeling

Dirt concealing mould

There’s bugs there’s gnats

On filthy mats

The rats are getting bold

Before you kneeling. Still appealing

My love. You’re feeling old

No wheeling, dealing. No time worth stealing

Please give me healing from the cold

*

Poetry, as we all knows

Is for them, that don’t do prose

A platform for artistic rage

A mess of words thrown at the page

To let the reader rearrange

What might at first seem deeply strange

With meanings hidden from first view

The reader gives them life anew

It’s like my drawer of underwear

You’ll never find a matching pair

Of socks in there, if you should look

It’s just a poem, it’s not a book

But you’ll see better what I say

If you politely look away

And find a more reflective view

 Giving credit where no credit’s due

 *

 

Let us speak of magic

Of mysteries within

Of searching through the labyrinth

To end where we begin

Trapped within the chamber

Where we hide our every sin

Where we find what we have lost

Where we lose all that we win

I hear you in the distance

A gentle violin

Your spirit calls, I walk through walls

To reach beneath your skin

*

 

Grab a bottle, pop the cork

Kindly use a knife and fork

I allow you within my dominion

But I don’t want to hear your opinion

So take a seat, but please don’t talk

 *

We sit then we crawl then we walk

Use our hands then a spoon then a fork

Things are progressing

Our parents obsessing

But regretting the first day that we talk

 *

There is no proper time or place

Get that flag out of my face

Those precious lives all disappeared

To hide the truth you’ve always feared

To satisfy your petty need

Gorging on your filthy greed

*

Freedom.

a mirage

that grows real

with every second look

Until you walk towards it

And realise that you have imagined

Everything that you thought to be true

And that reality itself is just a mirage

From which you lack the freedom to look away

*****

Are you still reading? No? I thought not. I’ll shut up for another few months.

 

 

 

Sometimes I sit alone, mostly in the mornings, and tap out little responses to things that other people have written and probably thought about a lot more than I have. My responses are trite and disposable.

But I discovered, only this morning, that some have remained stored, namelessly, on my phone. A few have tried to rhyme, but none would dare to describe themselves as poetry.

Anyway, I thought I’d drag a few out and give them another brief moment in the shade.

For no particular reason. And in no particular order.

1.

The sky draws lines in the sky

Paths beyond a grey horizon

Pointing to a sun descended

Into a bottomless ocean

And I, a moth yearning for the light

Am compelled to follow

Even if to drown

 2.

Truth is just another lie

Deceit. Betrayal. By and by

It all begins to feel the same

Love and hatred. Pleasure. Pain

A hint of perfume, taste of blood

Emotion. Torture. Famine. Flood

And yet we hunger, dream of when

The cravings might return again

 

3.

Forest deep, a private chance

Enchanted moment, secret dance

Whispered nothings in her ear

Words of love for her to hear

In the mist they take their place

Lovingly lie face to face

Enchanting, panting brief romance

The snake she feared escapes his pants

4.

On the school bus adorned in a kilt

John felt impressively build

‘Till the girls gave a snigger

“We’ve seen ones much bigger!”

And John felt his confidence wilt

5.

I’m nought but bulk

A burnt out hulk

A waste of space in bed

I’ve passed my prime

I’ve had my time

It’s done for me I dread

I frown and skulk

I turn and sulk

You say it’s in my head

Then you begin. Put skin to skin

Inhibitions shed

And in your eyes, that old surprise

A book so long I’ve read

You smile, you dance

I laugh. I prance

Again we’re newly wed

 

6.

I met this American dude

Loud and unblinkingly rude

Geriatric fanatic

Dumb psychopathic

Ugly,  unhinged and unglued

7.

Lend me your arm

Let me borrow your calm

Shelter me during the night

Lend me your hand

Help me understand

That what’s wrong, may one day be right

Touch me again

In the wind and the rain

As the waves wash over our past

Let me mould with your form

As we weather the storm

As together we cling to the mast

What was over can start

If you lend me your heart

When again we catch sight of the land

When our ship comes to shore

You will love me once more

And together we’ll sleep on the sand

 

8.

Just a little dalliance

One night. Or was it day?

Just a little itch

That wouldn’t go away

A little game of hide and seek

Harmless children’s play

A sweaty little dance

A roll amongst the hay

We’d lost our minds. We’d lost our shirts

And much to my dismay

You also found me lost for words

But what was I to say?

If you could find room in your heart

I’ll make it up some way

What price for your forgiveness?

Would  you have me pay?

9.

I owe you an apology

And I come to you to pay it

It might be that I love you

But I didn’t mean to say it

I tried to stay aloof

‘cause that’s the way you like to play it

Now you’ve had your proof

Though words should never sway it

So my cards are on the table

There’s no other way to lay it

My mind was in control

Before I let my heart betray it

10.

Freedom.

a mirage

which grows real

with every second look

Until you walk towards it

And realise that you have imagined

Everything that you thought to be true

And that reality itself is just a mirage

For which you lack the freedom to ignore

That’s enough. You’ve probably stopped reading by now.