utterlytruthfull Poetry (21)

Close to dawn well before

the first slivers of sun

you already foresaw

with a shiver of glee

what a wonderful day

it was going to be


so why do a repeat?


Because towards twilight

there'll be double-delight

in the proof that you were

indisputably right !

The frock deserves the flower
to dance
the bud to bloom
perchance

A hacker has come to cohabit my flat
controlling whatever I do
Regrettably too and on top of all that
wherever I go it comes too

Since it arrived and infected my thinking
my life has been truly debased
to where I’ve practically doubled my drinking
and know that to fight is a waste

My cutlery crockery bric-a-brac tools
are constantly in disarray
I seem to be one of the world’s greatest fools
for my gear-shift shifts the wrong way

When I shop and pick out the item my shock
which can only confound belief
is to find once again that they’re out of stock
Does The Hacker want to play Thief?

Why are these creatures so brutally greedy
to seek out their pitiful prey?
Or is it the drowning cry of the needy
and hopelessness losing its way?

If the only true mercy ever shown
to Man by the fates is
Woman
isn’t her “Otherness”
vital?

Or are our offspring to be
an amalgam of a sort of Me and
Me?
rather than
We?

Must she become another mere He
a dwarfed duplicate of
masculinity?
Can she not
be left free?

How can it be that humans
must spend half their lives
re-evaluating what they received
from those who adored
cherished and would even die for them?

How was everything so efficiently whitewashed
that humans did not know they were not
what they wished to be
but what they had to be?

Is living with their imperfect un-absolved
unfulfilled selves impossible?

Evidently

What about a rewrite then?
Let me set the example:

“I, human, resident of Earth, Galaxy, Space, etc., ad inf.,
do declare that whatever my authority rank class
popularity fame reputation possessions virtues feats
abilities and characteristics
I am and shall forever be
no more or less capable than any other human
of performing the most reprehensible and revolting acts.

My repudiation of the above is a cowardly denial of my humanness.”

signed

.

Face it
Death’s a bit of a disappointment

I hope nothing will be spoiled here
but it is definitely not what
it’s been cut out to be

Its colossal build-up over the centuries
is absolutely unjustified
and its terrifying caricatures
often used for intimidation purposes
merely increase anxiety

If Thought is monotone
(as has been said) then
one's last living expression might
well be classified as deadpan!

Those very few who were suddenly reprieved
seconds before their final exit
can testify that they were not treated to a movie
of their entire life's doings…
They did not beg for God-Aid
or bawl out "save me doctor" or "why me?”
or "long live the republic"

No
Sadly the end scenario is about as stimulating as say
the lowering of a theatre’s fire-safety curtain

Death it seems is a purely matter-of-fact affair

If she believed she was perfectly free
to notice or not whatever she chose
why should she care
that a meaningful stare
was fixed on none other than she?

What was so outré about anyone
taking a drink at her favourite café
lauding the view
of the old and the new
at ease in the temperate sun?

Was there anything strange about her face
that until right now she hadn’t observed
or could this be
coincidentally
the starer’s most coveted place?

Was there a smidgen of food near her nose
or some dirt or debris on her jawline
or had she been
inconveniently seen
by one of her earlier foes?

The was the moment for sowers to reap
She commanded her eyes to obey her
Pivoting right
they then stopped in mid flight
for the starer was sound asleep!

Milan Springtime
Twilight

From my window
I see four men
formally suited
with raised fists
and open mouths

My camera is set

One finger prods one shoulder
one foot advances
I ‘CLICK’.

All those in the street
have turned towards them
as their song
graces the early evening.

“In the future,
all parts of the body and brain,”
the professor beamed
at his rapt audience
“will be replaceable.”

“PROMAN will pursue
his ever-adjustable programs
forever.
He will affix to and discard from
his body, as required,
all that is in need of renewal.”

"He will function faultlessly
as per The Blueprint.
‘Imperfect’ man and ‘polluted’ Earth
will at last be done with.”

“Does that mean there’ll be no more
Father Xmas?” a student asked, aghast.
“Sorry,” the professor dourly replied;
“no chimneys likely.”

ANT
you cringe you flee
but I stamp you out
You are no more

Yet we share endless living
for neither of us can experience
an existence that has ceased

You ANT
unable to even
dream of Immortality
have thus escaped it

I who once yearned for it
am inevitably
its prisoner forever

If from sleep
I awaken
I'm alive

If I never wake up again
I'm dead - which however
I cannot experience

I think this is unfair
and to offer Death
its fair share of existence
I now rename ‘Life’
‘Death’

At last I can enjoy
the 'un-happenable'
(I often wondered
what it would be like!)

If I am the ‘me’
that decides what I see
and thus am an ‘I’ not a ‘we’
why do I hear so many ‘I’s
proclaiming themselves to be ‘we’?

i.e.,
“we are all equal
we must be free
we should be saving
the world…”

I don’t recall
my consent to agree
that the ‘I’ known as ‘me’
be sandwiched between
their ‘I’ and my ‘me’

The ‘me’ that I own
is my own by decree
As my true wannabee
I inhabit quite free
my own nutty tree!