The Prophet -------------------------------------------
All the noise and the chitter chatter back talking
that make my hands pin-numb
I’ll get out of my car now and smash you through the windscreen
Donkey kick ignorance and self indulgence
Get the fuck over yourself for one minute
stop picking your fingers to bits
breathing when the film is on
And crunching crisps in my face
I have 6 self-help books to read this week
please let me sit down for one minute’s peace
I’ll never go out with a smoker
the Cat shits all over the house and claws the sofa
and why can’t you just be who I want you to be?
The antacid just sits there and eats at hunger
and doing more just creates more to do
that never gets done
It was a simple question that needs a simple answer
I can’t hear you and I’m picturing eating your face
If it doesn’t make us any money I don’t want to know
send me an email Mum and book an appointment
All the noise and the chitter chatter back talking
that make my hands pin-numb
I’ll get out of my car now and smash you through the windscreen
Donkey kick ignorance and self indulgence i especially enjoyed this segment for two reasons.
there was a below comment that said some believe we lie a life preordained. i would say not so much preordained, but prescriptedlike Rx pharmaceuticals, as if we are supposed to know what is best at any given time and moment. right from the womb we are supposed to have a fully developed character and know exactly what path to take in life to live out that of the sedentary.
and any taxation against that, whether it be mentally, emotionally, physically or psychologically, in our relationships, daily conversations with acquaintances or friends, or what have you throws our meager human existences into a state of disarray. I enjoy the company of others who are not bound by the selfless rigmarole of Today, and choose to think independently, mix things up just a bit...
Get the [censored] over yourself for one minute
stop picking your fingers to bits
breathing when the film is on
And crunching crisps in my face
I have 6 self-help books to read this week
please let me sit down for one minute’s peace from the nit-picking to anxiety to the wine and pine of modern society's hustle and bustle, subways, the crowds of beggars outside the Bodega, the obnoxious group of Southerners at the latter of the bar, two girls as they walk past in the mall, jammering on about their unimportant social encounters with the Boy Next Door, Jeff...
people walking around with a false sense of Dignity, that is communicated even in everyday conversation, as though they're so high and mighty, pious yes...
I’ll never go out with a smoker
the Cat [censored]s all over the house and claws the sofa
and why can’t you just be who I want you to be?
The antacid just sits there and eats at hunger
and doing more just creates more to do
that never gets done
It was a simple question that needs a simple answer
I can’t hear you and I’m picturing eating your face
If it doesn’t make us any money I don’t want to know
send me an email Mum and book an appointment Men and women alike are beasts, but thats no excuse of ignorance or idiocracy. great read. hope to hear more like this from you in the future.
some think this is the case but i do not.i think that we plough our own furrow and i think that it is the landscape that is the determining factor..
and what a landscape it is that we inhabit: not so much the topography more the weather systems.
moreso the isobars...
i think you write in an educated way about the world we endure; not so much the world we enjoy. it is fortunate that i know that you have balance otherwise i would surmise that you were chewing antacid suppositories whilst writing this treatise on the craziness of being.
i have always liked the way you paint a picture. not unlike rolf harris - it is only somewhere near the end that the broad strokes combine to make what is in effect an intricate reflection of a world that is all too real.
I am glad to read you again, although this is an angry piece. I hoped for a love poem kind of...
I think it all lies in the last line, and I am not sure I want to extend on the poem's subject, I try to make the same mistake only once.
The poem comes out random at times, like bits of memories linked with new stuff happening. It is like falling into the past while living the present.
All I wanna say is that it is good to let things out, unfortunately the world is full of people who are not the way we want them to be.
The hardest part is when they are the closest ones to us.
Submission Name: The Prophet
i especially enjoyed this segment for two reasons.