When Friday comes and you’re weary
Yet, face loads of chores that are dreary
Do not seek the easy way
As I discovered the other day
For I told Alexa to get it done
But “she” said “I don’t know that one.”
So, I guess it will be the same old way
That the tasks will get done some other day
Most listen to pop radio
Following it like sheep
But it doesn’t have no edge
It lacks any real meat
Go with the killer edge
Coupled with real beat
And end up on the top
As all the sheep you eat
When painting a picture with your words
Life is your palette and all that you’ve heard
Random conversations, TV adverts
Ridiculous anecdotes, innuendos, and flirts
For the language of expression takes many forms
And a true artist will capture them, not just the norms
So, let the soundscape of your experience run free
And let it colour every poem and story
When cavemen rode dinos
And cars fit in a briefcase
Be it the streets of Bedrock
Or someplace in space
Childhood was simpler
Our imagination could run free
Without our dreams – being seen as reality
Let kids be kids
Let them pretend
Give them time to realise
They will go soon enough
All on their own
They don’t need us
To tell them they’re all grown
Barbara stepped from the carriage and crossed her arms and tapped her foot disapprovingly.
“What’s wrong?” Tina asked, joining her on the platform.
“I am peeved off because I’ve been scammed.”
“Yes, I paid an extra £11 to go first class, and you got here the same time I did and you were in the standard carriage.”
It has been whispered
Speculated and conject’ed
That something is up
That wasn’t expected
Just what it is
I’m not a liberty to say
It’s best kept under my hat
It’s better that way
There are many ways of proceeding, and a few that almost call to me. They are either beautiful to the point of distraction, or mysterious and challenging. This I think is one of the best descriptions that I can give of the writer’s block I have recently been facing in my present book. There are two paths simultaneously calling to me. I therefore have made a number of false starts and retreats, then made small advances along the other road before abandoning that too.
This is an awkward juncture, as the story has a firm setting and structured beginning. I also has a decisive conclusion. But how will I get there? I have considered the grave sin of “separating the party” and having key characters explore the different paths. But each seems to lead to unfamiliar territory and untold risks.
I have decided to maintain each scribbled ebb and flow, and each advance and retreat. In the end I am sure the characters will know the best way to get to the finish. Once they get there, I am sure they will let me know and I can share it with you.
“This shop is so creepy,” Tim said.
“You’re just saying that to get out of shopping with me,” Jessica replied accusingly.
“No. It’s the mannequins. Why do they go so far as putting nipples on them, but no faces? There’s something unnatural about it,” he explained.
“Hmm,” his wife said indignantly. “I’ll tell you what is unnatural. It’s unnatural that you’re obsessed with plastic statues’ breasts.”
It was then that he realised that those plastic bits were the last he’d be seeing for a while.
“I don’t quite get what you are on about.”
“It’s really simple, we have been living in a Matrix-like alternative reality, and it is just now that we are emerging – ‘awakening’ to what is true.”
“So Covid was a good thing, then?”
“Well not ‘good,’ but useful. It has allowed us to question assumptions and rise above 250,000 years of conditioning to get a firm grasp on who we really are?”
“And who is that?”
“Hell if I know.”
“The map says the stream is right over this next hill,” Charlie announced.
“Shouldn’t we hear it by now?” Tammie replied.
“I’m sure we will soon,” Charlie assured her.
They then crested the hill and looked at the rocky stream bed.
“Still not hearing it,” she said scornfully.
“Look, there is still water there though, lets fill the canteens and then follow the channel to the river. I’m certain there will be plenty of water there.”
Tam knelt beside one of the shallow pools and filled her canteen and a plastic bottle. “This is the last time I am going to let you guide us,” she said coldly.
“I found us water, didn’t I?” he replied.
“Humph,” she muttered, and soon they were making their way down the creek bed to whatever lay ahead, leaving the flowing stream which was just over the NEXT hill behind them.