Wilderness

When the old dies
The new tries
But fails at the first hurdle
Then tries and tries again
Until his spirit is broken
And he can’t see no light
At the end of the tunnel
Because old habits
Are not dying hard enough
Not lying for long enough
As the lies he tells himself
lie dormant in shell of his
temple
Synagogue
Sin again and again and again
Until he’s seen a god
Or seen a spirit
He keeps sipping away
Pouring out his soul into spirits
Until it turns to dust
And he sniffs it up
Then injects the waste
And smokes the pain away
Until the clouds carry him home
But it’s too late
As we stand on the soil
Under the weather
Spitting down
Looking up
Looking down
Looking ahead
Thinking about what he left behind
Written on the head of his stone.

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Fast Food….a 3 course meal…….

Too fast, too quick, blink and you may miss, the inconvenience of convenience, things in a rush, in a blitz, processing food where the process is crude, jigsaw puzzle rubbish reconstructed just for you, cos if you knew what they do to get this horror on a plate, it’ll make you wish they went back to the old days, when food was rationed out, where the rationale was national, people everywhere got their fair share of a healthy balanced diet, nowadays companies are killing the poor on the quiet, politicians get us wondering, ‘why is this country so obese?’,

but they let these companies peddle junk, they’re feeding the beast, and they don’t really care, it’s okay, they pay their taxes, so they can sell what they want anyway, leaving those on the bread line, eating crap from morning to bedtime, turkey twizzlers, spam, and hot dogs canned in brine, as long as they meet minimum standards, the food is all fine,

but low-income would buy fake meat, cos its stomach they need to line, to feed their families in between jobs, because the commodity is time, microwave food so fast, so quick, they blink and so they miss, the words and the numbers on the back of a can, some of the most questionable ingredients known to man, packaged by companies where money-making is the plan, but it seems easy for me to just shift the blame, because the choices that we make, we should hang our heads in shame,

cos we’re too fast, too quick, blink and we might miss, watching iplayer in broadband, whilst our waistlines expand, fast filling a craven need, with snacks that make us greedy, stomach’s continuous groan of ‘FEED ME, FEED ME!’, looking for more fast food, we really need to slow it down, diabetes kicking in and I feel I’m coming down with high blood pressure, step on scales that cannot measure, the volume of my weight, I may be a few meals away from something dark and fatal, junk baby is making me ante natal, could end up in a ward, on a bed, on a drip,

better slow down, life’s going too fast, too quick, blink and you might miss, the plane arriving with fresh produce, to stack supermarket shelves with, put on stickers of fair trade, for farmers fighting for a fair wage, but sometimes it seems like a play with staged performances, supermarket sweeping villain plays to the tune of domestic audiences, giving us what we want, that would be their reason, I never knew pineapples grew in the UK, I thought they were out of season, EU subsidies control production, putting on a CAP, excess food gets wasted, people can get fed off that, distortion and extortion,

streams of waste run out the tap too fast, too quick, blink and you might miss, some food for thought, a meal to leave you with, slow down the process, grow your own, better to eat something that came out your home, prepare meals in advance, take time to have a chance, to spend time with your family, cos life can move to quickly, get them involved in the process so they themselves may know, that chicken is a bird, and that there’s not much meat in Fray Bento’s, that Spam is not real ham, and those hot dogs in a can is a lesson in waste management,

reconstructed meat won’t be eaten by the government, so they pass legislation that allow the sale of junk from corner shops to supermarkets and petrol station, to fuel a generation that happen to be the obese nation, wasting time indoors, too busy playing PlayStation, or watching the television series of a life slowly fading away, the camera panning amongst the heap of empty boxes of fast food treats, too quick, don’t blink you haven’t missed the chance to turn it all round, get out your seat real quick….

©Word Of Mouth
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Make Up….

If I’ve made this up,
then I’m the Maybelline man,
Cos I’m born with this,
Unlike groupies with fake tans,
I enhance my flows with nips and tucks,
But no stiff upper lip,
Cos I don’t do Botox,
Cosmetic surgery leaving them with synthetic smiles,
Masking all the denial,
Tattoos on their arms to recapture days of acting wild,
But really it could be a facade,
For a once lonely and insecure child of the night,
On the red carpets of their life,
Shimmering flashing lights,
A reality fast for forty days and forty nights,
Fighting with the torment and dystopia inside,
The smiling sad clown,
The tears burning in her eyes,
That blurs the fact,
Of turning white to black,
Or vice-versa,
Wiped away with the hairs of an Asian,
Drying up through the fickle gust,
Like a Caucasian,
When she looks in the mirror,
What eyes does she trust?
The pupils of the world that taught her,
Or the one she sees through the eyes of her daughter?

©Word Of Mouth
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Profile Status

Profile Status
Profile Status

Joined up, now hooked up to the network,
working through the joined up net lines,
to find mates with similar tastes as me,
like supporting Chelsea, partying hard and watching MTV Cribs,
I wonder where they live,
down the street round the block,
I’ll message them from my crib,
list of friends are growing,
better put out an update,
of how I stayed up and partied with celebs till late,
sounds better than sitting in a box room,
playing pro on a council estate,
now I’m looking for groups that like to eat three ice cream scoops,
or watch that programme with those wanna be pop groups that get scooped up or pooped up by the ice-cold judge,
better re-check my status,
cos my ego won’t budge,
gotta let everyone know that I’m a stone-cold rapper with a concrete flow that walks over tracks,
let me retract and relax cos my friend list is swelling up,
now that’s phat, bare heads like me,
the unlikely lad from the council estate,
trying to make his way up the social ladder,
cos I wanna be one of the lads,
hold up I gotta digital girlfriend now I’m virtually a dad,
so I can’t go to these 10 events,
so to prevent my girl from seeing my fantasy world that’s unswirling before my very eyes,
reality hitting hard, starting to feel like a surprise,
so now class, here’s what I conclude,
build your friendships through the Lord,
don’t let your ego or social networks rule you…

©Word Of Mouth
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