21st Century Poem

Questionnaire:

What a clean city. I’m kinda sleepy.
Uniforms. With your name on.
My everyday life.
Thick smoke, no breeze.
And how do you see yourself in fifty year’s time?
[Place for credits of movie about missing persons.]
We plants are happy plants.
200 people faint. Hard to breathe.
Roll up roll up.

Any information you give will be processed by upwards of 200 commercial organisations and an unspecified number of military, governmental, and non—governmental organisations.

Do not get out
What might have been.
She blew a hole right through me.
The more you drive the less intelligent you get.
Hit the road quick.
Oxygen should be regarded as a drug.
Thick smoke not evenly distributed. Visibility 50m.
If you don’t ask me out to dinner I don’t eat.
Lobster-skin-shopping-mall-coffee-stained-lipsync.

The results of this intrusion into your life will be used ‘responsibly’ in ways that you cannot even begin to imagine or comprehend. Of course, the innocent have nothing to fear from the rapidly expanding data industry.

A wardrobe painted in fairground colours.
Story begins with explosion/ends with explosion.
Your fantasies are unlikely but beautiful.
No substitute for a healthy smile.
It occurs to him that if he died that night,
He would have died happy because he was loved.
Has sex ever really moved you to a different place?
Reduced enjoyment and pleasure.
The smoke came back extremely thick and abrasive.

Thank you for your time.

People are aware, but not that bothered.
Authorities here are alert.
Everything I do/say is suspect.
A strangler’s hands.
One of us.
No autonomy. A lethal cocktail. Horrific violence.
I am bad. I am to blame.
I think a little more sucking-up is needed.
Food and water crisis developing.

Have a safe day.

Words on a gravestone: I waited but you never came.
What will we mean? Nothing.
General loss of interest.
He’ll do something silly.
Winning. The last player left in the game is the winner.
A smile like the grim reaper.
Children go to school tied together, led by parents.
Airports closed. People coughing yellow phlegm.
Not sleeping okay. Trapped in hyperspace.

'He's Fascinated With Opening And Closing Doors...'

My nephew has bounced off every piece of furniture in the living room within the space of five minutes. He has also picked-up, played with and discarded every single one of the multitude of toys that are scattered across the floor, nothing seems able to hold his attention for any length of time. All I can see is a relentless little ball of energy that moves in and out of my vision and gets annoyed when I’m not paying attention to it.

Saying that, I’m curiously fascinated by the little man before me: a person in minature, I see shades of my Grandad, Father and myself in his overjoyed face as he begins to rip pages from a cardboard book full of nonsense characters. This act prompts my sister to get to her feet and scold him for his wanton destruction, I’m too blasé to care and enjoy seeing the enjoyment he obtains from this and the lack of understanding of what he is doing.

It’s a pity that as a species, we are unable to remember a time when simply committing an act for the sheer hell of it without worrying about the implications was possible, this is lost in infancy and develops as we become socially conditioned. Obviously, it’s possible to be a hedonist and live in such a fashion and not care about the implications, but deep down you still know that there are bound to be repercussions involved in any act you commit.

I try to imagine a society without bounds or limits, but the notion of anarchy creeps in seconds into this process negating it before it even really begins. The only state a boundless existence can be captured in is the state of infancy before notions of right and wrong begin to form – enjoyment can never again be pure and unsullied due to the constraints of trying to make your own particular existence a good one, as Kant said; ‘The starry heavens above me, and the moral law within me.’

I never found the Categorical Imperative that reassuring to be honest.

So, I’m free, yet I’m bound, this is the contradiction of existence I find most difficult to deal with, I consistently find that I try to do the right thing, but even doing the right thing can hurt and alienate the people you care about most. I consider the notion of my own freedom (real or imagined) and it’s impact on the people around me to be the thing that causes the majority of my neuroses and sleepless nights, and to be honest, I often wish the night were quieter for me. Maybe it would be simpler just to shut everyone out and I wouldn’t have to worry so much anymore – that’s the trouble with ‘letting people in’.

I stumble out of this little reverie…

My nephew has managed to reach up to the kitchen door handle and is trying to open it with his clumsy inarticulate little hand, he knows that my mother is behind the door as she keeps popping her head around it to talk him, my sister or me whilst simultaneously making breakfast in an absurdly large frying pan. For all his effort and growing intelligence, my nephew is unsuccessful in his endeavour and begins to get frustrated and gurney – I shouldn’t find this amusing but I do. My sister turns to me, smiles and says, ‘He’s fascinated with opening and closing doors.’

I think on this for a second before remarking, ‘well, that’s something that runs in the family at least…’