You who are slaves to the small glowing screen
Have to scramble to do just the usual things
Like brushing your teeth and taking a shower.
The lure is stronger than Hash or *******
And it is the lover you sleep with.
ljm

To:  Patty m. and Steve,
cc:   Q

Re: what’s a mediocre man to do,

(freshly mind washed by the
requisite hours of deep sleep,
that washed away the webs
and dreads of yesterday’s
factoids, lactoids, and brain plaques(

so he can perchance, begin again,

(with fresh slate, white chalk screeching
on a freshly sponged whiteboard
~
(or blackboard when he rues the
upcoming with dreaded calendar
notifications notarized notations of
dead lines)

You see Stevie,
this piety poetry piercing of the soul,

(is a daily face washing, soul scrubbing
of two spies (MadMe vs  Metwo) both madder ‘n hell that life has ***-signed him a nother bothersome empty day with the curse
of justifying his existence)

oh yeah baby,
it’s a contest, a contest within,

(and i am appointed and  disappointed to be
the Sec’y of the Interior who has the key to
the broom closet, and is/in charge of his
own corners cleanup, and besides a broom,
he ain't got no tools but stale words and he’s gotta figure out nice smelling new combos to
justifying his occupying his
siloed-sole-soully space place)

in the uni(as in sole, one)verse

universe verse, get it?
445am Monday Monday

And the minutes go by
So the hours, days and years
The position that once stood so firm
Has expanded into exploration
The daily chores and mores
With bitter or sweet stories
Bind me still to this day
The habit of waking up time after time
Either at daylight or approach of night
And facing the identity of times
The pressure of working slow or hard
Within an established web of might
Which clings like leaves
To the branches of Time
The relations that hooded my selfhood
The directions that booted me
Into realm of rotations
Keeping me circling the same dimension
The brushing of teeth, the shaving
The haircutting, the nail clipping
The eating, drinking, garbage dumping
And many other typical decisions
Hinting at the peace of indecision
And by now you might have guessed
My oasis is repetition's rest.

There is no insight
In illusion of stories
Beclouding your universal mind
Machination excavates
The earth of character
Breaching tenor of vision
The burning candle weeps
Tears of unfulfilled sapience
In the stillness of night
The fabrication of perception
Disempowers awareness
Compromising clarity
It was yesterday
When roads were unpaved
The spirits untamed
Wise ones were held in high regard
The birds displayed the way
And the Earth rolled unfazed
But today
Today is the face of tomorrow
Promoting future's paradise
And demoting present's purview
Today is the remnant of yesterday's joy
And the prelude to tomorrow's ploy.

Remember those days we'd all dress for a flight
Now all hoodies and trackie bottoms,
an almost ghastly sight
Remember those days your mum would call you in for tea
Sat down with just four channels,
with only one ITV
Remember those days when you only had one best friend
Not over a thousand nobody's, who just want to be on trend
Remember those days,
checking scores on Teletext
And looking for flights, that little bit cheaper, flick over onto Ceefax
Thoughts of better times,
when Freddie sang that,
these were the days of our lives
Well those day's will always ring true,
and hold hope,
in our nostalgic side

JJB