Sometime Soon

I know it’s been said before but
I can’t fight this feeling anymore

Down stop. In a down stop. Be around stop.
Back in the telegraph days
It was STOP all the time
With letters to brothers sisters fathers and mothers
Telling stories about times troubles and lovers.
I wonder if they ever stopped to make it rhyme.
And if they carried it everywhere with them
reading it all of the time.

I know it’s been said before but
I can’t fight this feeling anymore.

Be around brother, sister, lover. Tell me about your day.
Back in dem schooldays
we were walking around saying dem sayings learning our ways.
And the ways of the world so young we could touch it
with our eyes, with our minds – the same 24hr garages and telly
and internet connected via your set top box detected
in your living room Entertainment hub. Soundbar blasting
Rueing some better days.

We walk around in a haze
We are blind to the ways
of the sinners that control us
and the ways they offload us
onto unsuspecting councils
and unsuitable houses
for living in and recuperating
for a moment sit down and take five
and all that it takes to stay alive.
I know it’s been said before but I can’t fight this feeling anymore.
I know it’s been said before but I can’t fight this feeling anymore.

And now for the finale
And guess what? I am going to STOP
and hand it over to you, to you

We walk around in a haze
We are blind to the ways
of the sinners that control us
and the ways they offload us
onto unsuspecting councils
and unsuitable houses
for living in and recuperating
for a moment sit down and take five
and all that it takes to stay alive.
I know it’s been said before but I can’t fight this feeling anymore.
I know it’s been said before but I can’t fight this feeling anymore.

So stand up for your right to say to them this isn’t right
and someone had better put it right someday soon.

 

They dump rubbish outside of my flat then ignore my telephone calls and emails. This is for them Muthas.

©2017 Andrew Watkins

In Forty Years I Have Never

Killed anyone.

Broken any serious laws.

Been married.

Unintentionally experimented with Heroin.

Written a decent book.

Been to Niagra Falls.

Bungee Jumped.

Been to Jamaica.

Played with Tigers.

Owned a new car.

and am I pissed off about this. No, not really.

My bucket list is full of ticks but has way more empty boxes.

I am just kind of stuck in 2nd gear. My bearings need replacing. I am not transmitting torque. (Gearbox Analogy Ends Here OK)

How do I know this?

The thrills of life have been replaced by routine. No longer do I feel excited by music. Something is wrong.

Maybe I am listening to the wrong kind of music. Fixed that problem.

Now, why do I feel out of time and place again? Will I ever grow up? (read ‘be confident’)

Will I ever attempt to start my own block party? Will I ever meet anyone new ever again?

Will I ever feel that thrill again? (read ‘be in love/lust’) Will I ever rest my head again? (read ‘ Smoke a spliff’)

I wear grey. My hair is grey. For the first time in my life, My outlook matches my clothes.

Don’t get me wrong. Everything is wrong. But if I don’t struggle I go comfortably numb.

and stay that way for days. And stay that way for weeks. And stay that way for months.

And stay that way for two years. Two fucking years. And my followers on WordPress have slowed to a crawl.

(And all the websites I used to like have been the subject of improvements that have completely changed the experience of using them. Hence, they now in the main, suck. I except WordPress from this category, because it remains, on the whole, awesome.)

Well, thats my little moan. Now time to imbibe. Cheers.

PS. (I suppose I’d better start struggling)

A