The fall of the seasons,
Are absent from reason,
At one we freeze,
To burning degrees,
Perplexed avoiding feeling beaten.
Crystal clear and serene,
Flat, transparent and perfectly blue
Impossible to tell where the reflection ends and the water begins,
The entry to Heaven.
.
The Essence of life,
The Habitat to many,
The Centre of society,
Water brings us all together – for better of worse.
.
Falling leaves breaks the surface,
Ripples sent to all four corners,
There is a disturbance in the force,
I have a bad feeling about this.
.
The wind picks up dramatically.
Ripples are spread .
Death and destruction,
Water brings all things.
The final countdown.
Characterless Office cubicles,
Grey carpet lit by illuminated fluorescents
All eyes on the clock.
.
Motivation is lacking,
Attention lost. Care thrown out the door.
Our entire mindset captured by the gentle tick.
Savages reduced to cogs.
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Five is met. The silence is broken.
We rise together in unison.
Smiles etched to faces.
Colour warms our cheeks.
.
Our lives begin with the chimes.
Scattering to all four corners.
To loved ones, to sanctuary.
To all in between.
.
Life not spent living,
Is life wasted.
Break the system.
Rage against the machine.
Mouth open wide,
Skin tied taught,
Salt caked lips,
Parched beyong belief.
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The body craves water,
The essence of life,
Driving all decisions,
Disabling independent thought.
.
Finite resource,
Ever expanding Population
Heating up our planet
God forbid we ever run out
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Once we taste the nector,
We can take a breath again,
As time slows down,
And blood flow returns.
Time to prepare the trap (thirst trap)
Life begins with a bang,
From a blood soaked birth,
To wrapped in loving arms.
Tears, fears and mothers wears,
Soft, pump and innocent.
Useless and precious in spades.
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Our early years are full of firsts,
Innocence and ignorance in abundance,
Heavy guidance required as we take to many of life’s firsts.
.
Growing like weeds,
Long limbs, hairy and awkward.
Things change suddenly.
What was once cute and ignorant is something else entirely.
.
Confident and exploratory,
We grow into our awkwardness,
Start exploring and experimenting.
Viewers discretion is advised.
When trying to recreate our first bang.
.
Time slows down,
Firsts stop happening,
We become guides and teachers
Pretending to know what path to take,
When inside we are awkward still.
.
The young leave the nest,
Our purposes wind down.
Suddenly time is plenty,
But energy and willingness is lacking.
.
Aches and pain,
Hard to hear.
Time is a cruel mistress.
We near our final breath.
How we will be remembered is unknown,
But how we live is truly up to us.
I sit behind my desk in the far corner of the 33rd floor caked in the afternoon sun. My window side seat has me baking in the summer heat.
I should be working, but it’s late on a Friday afternoon, not sure what my bosses expect. It’s not like they are working hard anyway, planning their golf matches, yacht rides and whatever else successful people do with their time.
Rather than counting down the clock, I am lost in my thoughts. Absently minded. I stare down at the world below me. Looking for any form of entertainment, something to distract from the nagging thoughts and relentless boredom.
A flurry of activity. Hundreds, no thousands, of little ants flutter about their business. Nameless, countless man reduced to even less than numbers. It’s all a blur.
When you focus on a single ant you can see perhaps a greater meaning, but it’s all too easy to disconnect and switch off entirely. You lose meaning this way and just get mesmerised by the everlasting flurry (McFlurry perhaps? maybe I am just hungry).
A warren of ants. Driven crazy by the hive mind of society. Scuttling along, hurrying away to homes. To loved ones. To something else.
I am jealous as I watch down on them, like some big overlord powerless to do little else but observe. What do I have waiting for me? A waiting power bill, half a Chinese takeaway and dirty sheets long due for a wash. With this heat the beach calls to me, if only I had someone to go with…
I should really be doing work. To be honest I really don’t want to. I cannot strip my eyes from the scenes below. I imagine each worker ant heading back to his worker family. It fills my heart with joy, and yet I am left feeling uncomfortably alone.
From my vantage point I see all the world around me. The ants actors on the great stage of life. They are scuttling along in their lives, driving their cars and escaping the city as of their life depended on it.
All the hive is active at the same time. Similar thoughts fill their mind, so eager to miss rush hour they instead just bring it forward. These are ants stuck in the same queue, pushing in the same direction. Stuck in the traffic jam of life.
Perhaps it is not wise to conform, to fall jealous at what others have around me…
End
Life is what you make of it, live it at your own pace and define your own destination. The journey will be all worth it!
Pedal to the metal,
Breaking only when required,
Pushing to the limits,
Life in the fast lane.
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Days pass in a flash,
Moments fade to memory,
Friendships lost as sands in time,
Time to smell the daisies?
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Pace yourselves young ones,
Life is not a sprint,
A marathon of moments,
To leaving a lasting memory.
I am the shadow in the darkness, the watcher in the trees, ever observing those around me. Waiting as I plan my next move.
I have seen countless others jump forward in action, eager to take their next step in life.
Yet I must wait, ever meticulous in my calculations before I too am ready to progress.
My mind is my kryptonite, anxiety my vice and doubt my mistress. The darkness of my mind a cruel beast, one I am yet to tame. I feel I am losing this battle.
The shadows of doubt seem enough to snowball. Cascading my thoughts into oblivion. Leaving me immovable and afraid.
Bring me the light, help me to escape my impending doom. Join this journey!
Life split by two sides of a track
Society divided in its opportunity
Rich to the west, poor to the east
The lottery of life.
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Born on the wrong side of the track,
Your life predetermined
To be one of struggles, poverty, misinformation.
What hope lies in social misbalance…
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The west wants one thing,
To keep the east in its place.
Can we break the mould?
Or be stuck in purgatory?