The War

Is my story more exciting than yours?
Or did you get those scars in a bloodier war?

The pen can be mightier than the sword,
but guns would kill us all.

If only you could summon up the balls,
to stain the floor with your bullet-ridden corpse

                            or

vomit away your soul

                            &

say goodbye with the sound of broken bones
& a leap into the unknown.

Would your mind change before hitting the ground?
or would you leave with a taste of regret?

The war started before you were ready,
the fighting will fall silent without you knowing,

                            but

you were never ready for anything

at all.

Do’s & Don’ts

Pay no attention to the world outside of your city,
or the sunlight bleeding across the sky.

Don’t look at the photographs of Henri Cartier-Bresson,
or allow yourself to cry.

Do not listen to the Gymnopédies everyday for a month,
while taking commuter trains;

don’t look at single-platform stations as you pass them by,
or aimlessly observe the detritus trying to hide
 
in the fringes of everything. Never create, only consume
but don’t drink alone so much that you

begin to loose your mind…

***

Listen to teachers & parents & always do as you’re told,
exercise regularly & deny you’re growing old.

Listen to Spotify playlists & buy the latest clothes,
have faith in reason & that technology will save us all.

Always assume a community is just a collection of potential enemies
waiting to steal all that you own.

Believe that you are where you are through merit alone,
& drink only in moderation.

Ignore the homeless, have faith in the government
& believe that you are free.

Teach your children to respect authority
& do the same yourself.

Use razor-blades only to remove hair,
not to mutilate yourself.

Learn to accept your place…

***

Choose pleasure over meaning, close
your eyes & let advertising
do your dreaming for you.

Ask no questions, you’ll hear no lies:

it’s the only way to survive.

Bipolarity in Post-Modernity

Here I’m alive; a mediocre, twice-
failed suicide,
                hypomanic
in hyperreality
writing unremarkable poetry,
failing to be
               Homo Economicus, but
I’m not the only one

I know;
        this system fucks us all,
& so many of you are depressed too.

This ‘condition’ though; the flame forever
either roaring or falling so low
that it almost gives up the heat
            permanently:

the Accursed Share* tearing me apart,
sometimes corrupts so intensely
            that thinking about tomorrow
is more than I can bear..

                & then there is the voice,
I’m sure you’ve heard it too,
                telling you
it’s all your fault,
a flaw, a weakness
            
                – worthless piece of shit,
                can’t just get on with it.
                You’ve got so much privilege:
                just look at how much you can get when
                half the world lives on less than
                you earn in an hour.

                Don’t be so pathetic: you don’t deserve it –

Sometimes, I think the voice is right.

Sometimes,
I realise what it really is:
            
the propaganda of our disgusting society
that’s wormed its way inside of my psyche.

& yet knowing this doesn’t help

because
        this mind of mine can’t find
meaning in
the featherweight consolation
       of ironic distance.
I need
the romance of defiance;
I need
        all or nothing.

There’s only one decision to be made
if we’re ever going to change,
only one choice to make:

“Revolution or suicide”**

* The Accursed Share – Georges Bataille
** Guy Debord