Sunday whirl from a CMNS perspective
These were interesting words, or maybe I’ve been in a funny mood. I couldn’t come up with anything romantic out of them even with the words heart and close. All I could keep thinking about was marketing. Oh well, went with the flow. 🙂
I took this image at West Cottage in the industrial estate a year or so ago and it seems to fit the feeling of this poem.
beam, anchor, shift, close, heart, phrase,
range, connect, current, fertile, layers, yield
I am aspiring to the current position of rebellious cult genius of influence.
I think the honour I strive for is waiting for me somewhere up there on this broken-rung ladder.
So I’ve fallen a few times but I always bounce, always repeat, it’s the plush layers of my skin.
I wouldn’t want to whisper the truth of my boredom from the bottom anyway; I want to shout like a firecracker at the heart of a party.
Don’t talk to me of a sudden shift or my imagination will falter and yield to the fear that this happened here already just a close while ago.
For now just pace back and forth and back and forth on the floor of the office; my mouth tasting of floor, my brains crammed with floor, the flavour of my movements, floor.
You know, my impeccable spirit beams with a meat-hook reality, but perhaps no one will notice.
Being a charming, out of touch, rebellious cult genius of influence was easy in previous decades.
Now, I drag those decades behind me like an anchor.
Now it’s like struggling to grab water and drag it back to the shore.
But I only need one phrase to connect, to allow everything to make sense like it always does.
My boring complaint is that every fertile position has already been taken up and championed into depths of crumpled worthlessness.
Until some charming idealist comes along and smoothes out its broken, wrinkled form and contrives it into an endless range of product placement and domestic penetration.
And on any given Saturday I can go buy rebellion at the department store.
In plastic of course, but a relatively good imitations.