ORAL VERSION | FREEDOM
Freedom is a gift we
can all afford to grant ourselves. It means nothing to most and
everything to a few. Those who dare to stretch themselves away from the
mainstream and are bold enough to bank solely on their ability to
communicate and have ambition to see it through right until the end.
Those are the works worth waiting for www. Those are the memorable
voices that will, over-time, be heard by all.....
Bubbling like brown rice in giant metal pots.
Listen to the sounds of the Underground.
The murmur of distant voices rising,
tiny sounds at first until the fullness is
truly realised and the volume reaches
our
ears in order to be heard. Suddenly,
the agony is understood firsthand
and then those high pitch screams.
Those unbearable shrieks that pierce
the body like poisoned thorns,
sending shockwaves into curdled blood,
rapidly flowing around weak deflated arteries
and thin human veins like freshly
generated, clean and sharp electricity.
Downplay the ignorance.
Support the
ground offensive.
Play War Games
on foreign soil.
Drill bullets through
the skulls of the damned.
To ignore
these cries would be a shameful
travesty.
To not download
their significance would
be an
utter disgrace. Grand plan, final attack, Drones
released, terrorism
hunted down,
removed for good. The cries are coming from
all those offended. All those affected.
All those that are now gone.
Dead and buried.
Feet firmly rooted to the spot we, the afflicted
have no chance but to digest this torment found.
Head-splitting memory of reliving misery.
The constant throbbing on a broken-heart,
mended only by a night out and a finders-fee,
bright lights, Bingo and cups of tea.
What started as a friendly sparkler,
quickly turned to fireworks,
to mass murder
with
missiles never missing
every site on target hitting.
Blowing up the innocent
from Baghdad to Kabul.
Avoiding all the criticism
from Edinburgh to Liverpool.
Sending out our brave young lads
from Islington to Hartlepool.
From Gravesend to Nuneaton
from slightly bruised to badly beaten.
Catchphrases, soundbites and Celebrity.
She’s pedigree and soon-to-be my destiny.
Mix friends, stir well with a bedroom key.
I'm-in agony on-ecstasy, medically I’m fine you-see.
Watching you so jealously, finding my own chemistry.
Fearful of nonentity, hoping for longevity.
Regrettably I cannot be, the man you want so eagerly.
I am pure complexity, a man without identity
but plenty of integrity and I will love you endlessly.
Here is to the freedom of saying what you like when you like.
JP 05/03/15
No comments:
Post a Comment