Somewhere between Self-actualisation and Slavery (Peeking through the gaps in the floorboards)

‘Poetry holds the knowledge that we are alive and that we know we’re going to die. The most mysterious aspect of being alive might be that — and poetry knows that.’ Marie Howe

Somewhere between Self-actualisation and Slavery

 

8:47pm: A golf-ball sized awareness 

On a train stationary at no stations

Somewhere between Self-actualisation and Slavery

Solemn omphaloskepsis follows

(soft and hollow)

I wish that were a metaphor

For my connection is 50 miles away

With a golf-ball sized consciousness 

The unknowns have grown

(soft and hollow)

 

Round-up what you’ve sown 

(Like slack jaws that curl around the marble lobby)

Subterfuge as hobby

The torment of your privilege

Bless you burden (it must burn)

The affectation brands  

(soft and hollow)

Weep and wallow

Somewhere between self-actualisation and slavery.

 

Schools of thought contend

History bends

Like the last twig on the forest  floor

Snaps –

 

Consuming collective regurgitation 

Misplaced sensations

Direct action discarded 

Seas of walking inconsistencies 

Pragmatism floating in the shallows 

V’s of jets have flown-

The facades of sea side towns- 

Blown-

Down underhead fronts and scones crumbling 

Centuries of dissolution and stomachs rumbling

The cavernous myth that lies open-

The meal that never comes-

 

Macabre imagery

While you wear the supermarket livery

The Beefeater of all boardrooms

That disintegrate

With the tales of Peter

And Tom-

And Jack- 

And John-

 

15 centuries of different faces-

(Ashes soft and hollow)

With the same last names- 

(Ruins soft and hollow)

Names-

(Bodies soft and hollow)

Everybody’s dead-

Everybody’s dead.

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