Creep Shadow Creep

I never really contemplated growing older... but it arrived amidst a cloak of distraction. Losing everything, then standing up again, almost tall but not quite fully outstretched. Just about to peer over the parapet when SMASH.. we were all locked down by some homicidal maniacs. A disturbing game of Simon says... Simon says go out for twenty minutes...Simon says stay in your home “Be off the streets by Nightfall”...it became black and white...Of course, those amongst us who follow history, politics pharmaceutical corporate seizures of power....smelt a rat straightaway eek! eek!

As always, my instincts insisted that I stay in motion.
I always have, so I merely continued. Luckily I don't follow mainstream media...the subliminally dim-witted, the arbiters of numbskull narratives that captivated the debt-ridden nation... who, for reasons of indebtedness, cannot afford to look beyond... the end of their nose ...because it's too far deep into the trough! Oink! oink!

Now, after barely recovering from that mass formation psychosis event, we have whispers of war..... what is it good for,...absolutely nothing! Say it again. Okay, I will you fucking ahistorical zombie! War what is it good for...absolutely nothing! I met Edwin a few times, a top soulful, man... a man with soul... the man from soul.

It's staggering to me that people still get their news from the BBC or the snooze paper...owned by a handful of globogarchs serving up the same identical discharge. Hear nothing, see nothing, say nothing. Oink oink, they cannot afford to look up. They have lost the ability, due to a lack of space, a lack of time, and the absence of inquisitiveness…”it’s at the end of my nose so it must be true.” Pseudo-intellectuals mutter along too...exalting themselves whilst pontificating from their narrowboat, rudderless, poop decks....the exact same myopic narratives... but with a left-wing spin to signal their benign openness. This bunch of wankpuffins choose to tread water, maintaining their image of supposed  worldly understanding ....left, right, left, right, attention, at ease! Attention, about turn... left, right, left right.... changing step according to their self-preservation society inclinations.

Rebellion, what fucking Rebellion?

My old man had a tattoo...a shit faded air force mermaid type thing on his right arm.... couldn't wear short sleeves in the summer because people judged him as dangerous, a rebel... dysfunctional. Nowadays, it's merely a sign of dogged conformity...a fitting into... into a stereotype, a stereotypical typography. The brand of the bland. Arranging images and letters to signal tribal association....is that a virtue I see before me? But the topography of the masked flesh echoes elements of running away and hiding... amongst the others who have no otherness about them....it was covered up with ink a long time ago.