To be free, one size fits all

To stand alone in a wet field, in a damp
Marsh, under a blazing sunset. Cotton candy streaks race
Towards you prepared to strike

Standing alone. Apart. Aside.
There is no freedom in a crowd. Nothing to express
In a collective. No individualism when you are
Butting heads, singular ideas smeared with others
Coloured by logos, rhymed with slogans, brightened
By long forgotten adverts
Entrenched in the reservoir of the mind

And yet who am I to dictate absolutes
To lay down terms and conditions
Shaping freedom, directing expression. Does this not
Make me freedom’s worse enemy?
Yet what is it? Without a framework within
Which to consider ideas,
Where do we start?
Minds are stretched like eternal empty canvases
Prospects of infinity
Impending fears on the contrary
That the elastic might snap
The canvas might break
A little hole. And all is lost.

Sucked into the abyss, our creativity, our uniqueness
Those ideas to die for, passions to kill for.
So in fear we ignore
Subdue, suppress
Follow the lone idiot
Who dares express
The remnants of their own philosophy, a flickering
Candle illuminating the darkness of conformity
That oppressive ambience

That thick dense one-size-fits-all blanket

Is that not our slogan?
Our theme?
The song of our marching band?
It plays with a ring and a stamp
Through adverts.
Buy this product. Go to that club. Travel on that holiday. Indulge at that restaurant. Let’s all do the
Same thing. One size fits all.

Try standing on your own for nothing.
Everyone thinks they are fighting
They think they are fighting against something
Fighting for something
Fighting to change the world
Make it better. Brighter. More identical.
Fighting for an upgrade
What about a downgrade?
Or a strip back?

Try standing on your own for nothing.

In a wet marsh under a blazing sunset. Alone. Look at those things that cannot be mimicked
Understood. Explained.
Doesn’t have a size.
Does it even have a purpose? A reason? A meaning?
Let go off all those trappings.

And then express
Yourself.

Goodbye

Bittersweet
Or simply sad?
Bitter implies regret
Maybe in the heart of all endings, there lies a pool of resentment. That word.
That sullen expression
Those chewed lips, held back tears
“We do not have to say goodbye”
“Must I cut you from my life?”
That tripe about chapters seems so trite

Shall we stay and hold and hold and hug
And do it all again?

Nod.
Duck your head. Too late its coming – arms are out, chests will bump, smiles imprint, words to cloth, fabric absorbs, it’s the brain it missed.
Walk. Walk Away. Quietly, Smoothly.
Lock eyes for a moment, then bow out.

But that is rude and crude and cruel, to be bright eyed bushytailed 90% of the time
Then at the last hurrah, your inner subtlety like a fountain springs from a solid well
We thought we knew you. You we recognise. Always familial, demure was never your
Style

Thos parting words, how naff, how weak
“See you soon?” No you won’t.
“Have a good time” A good time at life?
“Have a nice life” What a fucking word. To sum up a life as “nice”. I wish you blessings and fruitfulness, how the hell does nice sound now?

Hollow inside. Teardrops like water running down the smoothest of shells. Sometimes the hug is tight the emotions raw, Often I want to kick them through the fricking door. Avoid the eye. Miss the tears. Have no empty platitudes
To fall on deaf ears

What follows. Numbness. Something is not lost, a cord is merely broken. For those who feel with red raw hearts, the world does not bounce back. You can look at times, missed, swooped by
You have gone wonting
That slice of life in this arena
What it means to feel. So much.
Your skin breaks and red ropes
Of love
Roll
Slippery. From that tell-tale heart
Beating even under
The floorboard
Of rationalism

I don’t like the word. I don’t like the sentiment. I don’t like the act. Why not duck it all. Collect that which is yours. Mock a royal wave. Smile a rueful smile. Wryly shut the door.