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Slumped, Straining and Moaning: The Lines of Boredom – This is an audio recording.
These are a few of my favourite things – Spoken Word
Rules can be broken
if the rulebreaker is cunning.
Rules can be changed,
if you want to change them.
Society has a way
of telling us who we should be.
People have a way
of seeing gold where there really isn’t any,
and thinking that someone as great as God
made up the categories of who you should be to me.
And so we believe that
these rules are here to stay.
But life is dull
if nothing’s done;
if we sit inside our boxes,
like good Brits in a queue,
never asking nor telling —
moaning occasionally —
but never acting
when someone steps on the flap
of our cardboard boxes.
So change the rules.
Make them good.
Don’t break the law,
but find your own,
GHETTOS BY BIBLES
Religion tries to put people in boxes,
and I don’t like boxes, me.
Religion tries to tell you what to do,
who to be,
how to live,
who to love;
it assumes we’re all bound for the same life,
and marks anything outside of that life
This is why I’ve turned against it.
It’s not to say I’m an atheist,
or that I hold the world in my brain
and not in my heart,
but that the stories we make
are often too powerful
and the people we know
seize this power and
build a ghetto with it.
My mind shows me possibilities, here and there and in-between:
anything can happen.
We can be anyone,
or do anything,
with nothing in our way
– except the definitions
we think we should adhere to.
I know I could be better;
I know I could be worse;
I know I could be different,
or pointlessly alike.
I know I could be me,
or someone else entirely.
The point is, I know ‘me’ could be
driven to the sun.
I think I have a need
to write and breathe and run,
free in the world as if…
as if no pathway’s done.
I wonder where we’re going with our feelings on the tracks.
I wonder where we’re heading with our hearts against the racks.
The world shouts, and I watch.
Violence is not the answer to my outbursts of emotion.
Anger is not the answer to my comments of degradation.
Repeat! Repeat! For the world is forgetful.
I sit here with a pencil. Thoughts are musings of my intellectual
I suppose you’ll think they’re ineffectual.
I rub out that last line.
The pencil is sharper than the pen, twice as sharp as the keyboard
for the writer takes more care and the pages have more wear and tear.
I sit here staring: the world shouts and I watch.
Don’t you know that words are daggers and the blade is sharp,
words are daggers when the heart is dark.
So get a spade,
dig a ditch, make a grave:
anger drips like blood from steel
and I think you’ve stabbed each other.
Loosen my head.
Unstrain my chains.
Of all that there is to be captured by.
Life is as occupying as the vines around my feet
Trapping the body in curse until defeat
Humans, they wander and walk, under a white sheet.
I shall not fall. Prey. Pray.
Blindness shall not take me away.
Fear shall not rule me,
Love shall not hinder me,
and life shall not get in the way.
I shall not fall. Prey.