the strange perversion
of wet bathroom floors
once you step out of the shower
god, awful! feet against wet floor
it’s cold dirty water
with stray hairs flakes of skin
…cringe!
head hair body hair private hair
clogging the sink the plughole
lacing itself upon wall window.
down your leg. some shabby dog
molting all over the space
the smell of damp hair
in the morning or
in the hair dressers
- a stink of gas.
the sound of forks and knifes
skating and scratching the plate
god, awful!
eyes seize/ears curl.
a happy man whistling
outside as you work inside
becomes highly irritable.
and you want to shout:
Shut the Fuck Up!
I’m in the middle of something.
Your infernal birdsong is itching
my neck!
You stand in a queue
and you think the
big cliched thought
of every modern mind:
it doesn’t have to be this way.
But you have no idea how to make
a new way possible. you just cannot
understand how the fuck a giant
society actually works.
how the hell can this thing
be organised so well?
It is a continual mime
of making it happen
and keeping it from
falling apart. (well,
being rather melodramatic)
so you just buy for your shopping
and leave and step over a dogshit
O the Mytsery of Personal Identity!
It’s mind - consciousness
and the sun is out
the door always open…
I did not attend the funeral today.
I dislike funerals. They make me die.
Selfishness par excellence
The trouble with Individuals
Is that they do not know
how to work in a group
and if they did they wouldn’t
want to because it would
jeopardize their individuality.
This is why all staunch individualists
should be forced to do manual labour
for several years.
individuality has nothing to do with personality
or practicality or living - it is an assessory.
A buying of yourself repeatedly in many different forms
…a mock play: a grand amatuer dramatic workshop.
A shifting identity never your own…
individuality is a commodity
projected on a real consciousness
before it dies of boredom.
(and why does
this boredom exist? because
no one has the skill or
the intiative to do
their own joinery or plumbing
painting or writing or homebaking
or gardening.)
In the land of perfect nod
a moment of sleep
is a moment of truthfulness
one day I will love so much
I will find no other pleasure
greater than listening
to the woes of your world…
BIG FAT KID
[size=150]SPLASHES [/size]
INTO THE
SWIMMING POOL
WEARING A RUBBER RING
and we get a good laugh
in the sun holding large
glasses of orange juice
and the fat kid laughs too.
and it’s perfect for a moment.