It's happening Now.
There's no point in Soon.
What's happening Now
You're already giving into.
By Giving, I mean that
You're already living it, it's here.
Right now Choosing to Ignore
The Now is giving into Fear.
Fear's not necessarily bad...
But choosing ignorance is indeed mad.
So live it, love it, take it, give it,
'Cause without the Now you ain't got ****.

So once again comes this time of year
When all everyone's expected to show is cheer.

Cheer for all that they have around
"Cheers!" as glasses clink together ringing sounds!
But this year, in particular, out of many
Highlights the every day struggles of any
Person unlucky enough to fit in with modern day 'expectations'
As our country chooses to eject any hopeful relations,
Casting down Others and even creating this Other-ing,
Rather than living up to Old Britannia's proud Mothering.
Leaving many, if most, fighting for jobs
We're not all lazy, just all that's left is odds and sods.
A culture already devoured by its own empty greed.
Flashing advertisements disguising us from anything we really need.
So instead of buying into what They want me to,
This year I've had to cut-back, but it doesn't mean I don't think of you.
And not just at this prescribed time of festive medication
But always - for you're part of me, in this crazy creation.

Chicken is what they call me,
Though not 'cause I flee at a fight.
I'm Chicken from birth, it's my family fo'real,
That frees me with my flight.

Though cumbersome my wings may flap,
Not propelling as most birds are able.
I can certainly procure a slap
To the face of the Strong and Stable.

For this Chicken is fed up
Of current state black market affairs.
That's right this States' colour's corrupt.
And ******* if you're thinking 'she's racially unaware'.

I mean black like skin that blood no longer supplies,
I mean brute black like when the river dries,
I mean black like it's the End, when all magic dies.
I don't want to be called a pessimist,
But I truly cannot deny;
The current affairs seen by a realist,
Are a 'Big Issue', Strong and Stable's a clear lie!

Personally, I've never even seen, nor do I seek,
A Strong and Stable Tory.
They're usually over 70, or weak and meek,
Like an embarrassing aristocrat's public school story.
The Tories I've seen
Are mostly on the TV screen
And even then, Strong and Stable's a far shout.
Their best attribute's looking mean
And keeping their skin taught in a tight pout.

To be honest, this Chicken thinks
All that's necessary would be a blimming flap
And they'd be scrambling on all fours for their cuff links,
Just with one feather's single tap.

So they must stop ****** trying to deceive
Those unfortunately circumstantial souls,
Because they're making them thicker as they thieve
All of their lasting retrievable goals!
If you are balanced, indifferently
Or stuck upon the fence,
Listen to the Chickens' squawks carefully:
Read up! It's your world too!
Let's destroy former pretense!
That Politics is an area only for the Privately Schooled
Because the majority of us definitely know now,
They are false Strong and Stable fodder-food.
Who really we should not even allow
A say in the rest of Our futures,
Because they'll take the rest of what's ours
They're programmed-in, suited-booted-Vultures!
**** Vultures!
Chicken's got Powers.
Chicken's gonna remind us of what was
Already Ours!
Weak and Wobbly.
That's the truth of the state of Today,
Funny that isn't what the masked Vultures say.

"I really like you"
I touch her nose.
I kiss her cheek.
I think of all the things left to speak.
As those Three Words
Cascade around my head,
And as again we rise from an un-Nuptial bed.
I stare at her.
She stares at me.
Will either of us pluck the courage to use Those Three?
Words of violence
Break the silence
But what happens when there's no words at all?
No way in which to describe the felony of your fall?
"I really like you"
I hold her hand.
I kiss her cheek.
I think of all the things left to speak.
But of those things,
I think too much.
Instead of lingering
Skin's touch.
We curl up tight.
We sleep so sound.
And in the dreams
Three Words are found.

I don't feel like a drop in the ocean will ripple my sheets,
For I am the one steering clear of all of the other fleets.
Steering wide, steering far,
I don't want to see you, no matter who you are.
So...

Set your anchor and wait right there.
See if in the morning my Western sails care.

See my life just keeps speeding up
If it gets any faster I won't catch up.

opened the door,

looked out to the night:

the black tar - stuck,

hiding the purest light.

head stops spinning,

chance to breathe still air,

as the jaded mirrored reflections

invade my milky stare.