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Jack Shannon Feb 2019
We trust ourselves to know right from wrong.

We trust in the age old sayings of people whose names we can’t remember.

We trust our dogs not to **** in our favourite pair of shoes whilst we’re asleep.

We trust that everyone means well and just wants to get by.

We trust the teachers who taught us the earth is round, and that Pi is 3.14159 and how Pluto is the 9th planet in our solar system...

We trust that not everyone is right all the time.

We trust bus drivers to not get lost.

We trust in the fact that our keys are probably in plain sight even though we’ve been looking for half an hour.

We trust our parents to know what to do no matter the situation.

We trust the world to keep spinning away in the dark void of space with no company but the moon.

We trust that everything will be alright.

We trust that one more pint won’t hurt.

We trust that hangovers are only temporary.

We trust our partners when they say I love you.

We trust in traffic lights and zebra crossings.

We trust that this is our last chance to get a brand new sofa in the DFS sale with O% APR for 4 years.

We trust that size doesn’t matter.

We trust Alexa won’t tell us to *******, and that Siri will always help us no matter how many times we say we hate it.

We trust that despite our self-doubt and insecurities that we’ll probably still get through another day.

We trust in peanut butter.

We trust that no matter how many times things go wrong, mistakes are made and promises are forgotten, we will learn to trust again...
We trust.
Another  try at normalising the weird thoughts that pop into my brain sometimes.
Jack Shannon Dec 2018
Oh glorious day, did my eyes deceive?
So long the wait had been I could not believe,
That the time had come, so bright and fair,
My poor and barren chin would no longer be bare.
No more would I shave in vain attempt
To feel manly and escape contempt
From my bearded brother, whom according to he,
Could grow a full beard by the age of 3.
Oh how he'd be proven wrong from now on,
That even 'Baby Faced Jack' could possibly grow one,
Soon I'd have more hair than could be counted.
So much in fact I would never be discounted,
By burly builders and stubbly cooks
And have my age judged as 12 based on my looks.
Oh, what possibilities could be within my grasp,
Sideburns, goatees, chin beards OOH A Moustache
Ah, so many new ways to help me look prim and distinguished,
Like Hugh Jackman but better because I'm... English?
But as I pet, stroke and caress this wonderful hair,
My eyes widen in fear and despair
It was not what it seemed, it just wasn't fair,
This wonderful thing must have come from elsewhere,
For as I prided over becoming a man,
That tiny hair fell off right into my hand.
A poem based on the long wait to being able to grow a beard.
Jack Shannon Dec 2018
Write a poem
2. No seriously write a poem
3. Refer to step 1
4. Draw a mind map about things you think of
5. Draw a mind map about things you think of other than her
6. Give in to the fact the poem is going to be about her
7. Decide on what type of poem it's going to be
8. Work out how this one will be different from the other 29 free form poems you've written
9. Structure the meaning
10. Cut out that bit about love
11.Cut out that bit about ***
12. Change the meaning of the poem that you tried to structure in step 9
13. Make the poem less depressing 14. Scrap the joke about salad dressing
15. Stop forcing rhymes
16. Scrap everything that is trying to force comedy
17. ...realise you've just had to delete the entire poem
18. Refer to step 1
A self-critique on my usual writing process
Jack Shannon Dec 2018
She blooms in spring after the heavy snow,
Her grace heralded by trumpet fanfare.
Along the river bank is where she'll grow
Loud and proud in the warm early May air.
Though tangled weeds may grasp firm on her roots,
She'll spite them whilst dressed in glorious blue.
So all who see her fresh buds and shoots,
Will know inside flourishes every hue
Of colour there displayed inside her mind,
Topics not easily comprehended,
Encyclopaedic knowledge you will find,
Which given her chance will be defended.
And as the Bluebells leave with Summer Sun,
She will remain to cheer us, never done.
One of the first Sonnets I wrote, about a good friend who needed cheering up.
Jack Shannon Dec 2018
I feel like Schrödinger's cat,
Both happy and weary
In a box that's the theory
Call me Schrödinger's Jack
Could be one way or the other
Be like me or my brother
But better yet be better
Be more than I am or less
Going through time is the test
But the box is closed,
Nobody knows
How I'll turn out, till it's opened
If the lock will turn,
If the hinges are broken.
The future is the box
And the cat is me
There or not
Soon we'll see
A poem inspired by a silly half rhyme and a theory on inter-relational causality.
Jack Shannon Dec 2018
Am I so broken?
She tells me so,
Her eyes full of tears
That it's what's left unspoken
That I can't see myself
That I can't react
I'm numb
Someone else's problem
Not mine
It's not who I am
Not who I want to be
But in reality it is
It's who I've become
Faded and worn
Not yet 20 but old
But I am a lie
An old poem by a confused and hurt me.
Jack Shannon Dec 2018
We are afraid of gluten, nuts, fat, carbs, sugar, shellfish, meat, fish and dairy.

We are afraid that the internet will crash and we will have to spend more than 20 seconds a day in our own heads, and not in the ****** stream of consciousness of society which is social media.

We are afraid of others knowing just how stupid we are, that one day they'll realise we've been hiding behind trivia since we discovered QI and TED talks.

We are afraid that someone will correct that Friends quote we use almost daily, and by doing so render our existence meaningless.

We are afraid of being angry or sad, or so happy that we might offend those who aren't, and therefore adopt a bland honeyless oatmeal flavoured apathy instead.

We are afraid of mistakes.

We are afraid of mistaking gender, sexuality and race, should we say he, she, them, they, Mr, Miss, Mrs, Mx we're not as sure as we once were.

We are afraid of being at the age where we can no longer blame our laziness on youthfulness or adolescent carelessness but instead realise that if we don't start soon...

We are afraid that we have made a wrong turn but have travelled too far to go back.

We are afraid that we have made all the right turns, but life is just **** anyway.

We are afraid.
A creative response to a class in my MA. Consciously imposing my own petty fears on society as a whole, because it's easier that way and it's fun.
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