Three for the price of one
A poem, a story and a rant!
1. Air in my lungs: A positive of Covid -19
Less needless petrol burn
Less poisonous fumes
For your children to breath in
Petrol fumes in England gas fumes for the USA
and other world languages for fuel
Are as dangerous as
As tobacco smoke as
As asbestos as gas
The less cars
The more the world can breathe
Less clouds in the sky
2. The Plastic Jungle
Down in the depths of the desert bunker, where the last of the human race sheltered from the heat and the dust, a team of sculptors made flowers and trees out of plastic. They had enough food stored to last the next one hundred years. Eating got boring very quickly, so did exercise, they had nothing to photograph down there. They had sex until they were sore, until it lost it’s thrill.
The brightest minds thought long over what to do. They came up with art and music. The organised the survivors into work groups, some painted, some sculpted, some made music, some danced, and some read and wrote their thoughts and ideas down in artistic ways. They were unimpeded by the distractions of the old world. They put everything into their art, and for years they were happy. They turned the empty food warehouses into dancehalls, theatres, and art installations. My favorite was the plastic jungle.
The most capable sculptors spent a long time making plants and flowers out of waste plastic. Leaf by twig, they built a replica of what was lost. They worked from photographs and video taken from the time before the desert. They had all the time to make it life like. It started as a crude flimsy thing. They improved on it every year until it looked close to the real thing. They played recordings of the jungle as they worked and when they were finished. They said to the other bunker artists “we want this to be our unfinished sanctuary.” It would always be there for the people to improve on, even if all they added was another leaf and stem. Leaf by stem they build a jungle below the dust. They no longer said “Fucking Fuck Off!” to one another.
3. The Stillness of Danger: a rant!
Two viruses plaque the world at the same time, one is a physical virus (Covid-19) and the other is a virus of the mind. The second virus is called denial, and the middle class have got it bad. I must be immune to denial. I like to believe in what I can see. I have been in lockdown and the UK gov has paid me eighty percent of my pay. It is enough to keep me from starving but the only reason we have a roof over our head is because two working adults and one older parent work together to pay the bills. If I had to feed a family or pay the rent and bills alone I would not be able to.
During lockdown I got to experience what it's like for a rich person on a sunday afternoon. I had no worries about the shit job I had to do on Monday. I felt and feel free and happy. I guess that's what it's like to be rich, money without any hard work. The rich just take the rent we pay them and live the dream.
I come from the diseased underclass of the Uk, but I am the one who’s afraid of catching denial. I am lucky to be alive and I am lucky I have a small bit of curry to stop me from starving.
I need to clear something up for all you fitness fanatics JOGGING and FITNESS is not a HOBBY. It is maintenance of the human body. Amateur painting, music and poetry is a hobby, photography and fishing are hobbies, going to the Gym and putting pictures of yourself online is not a hobby, sorry to burst your bubble. I’m not sorry, you ignorant waste of life. Put a fucking mask on if you go jogging I don’t want to breathe in your denial and anything else you might have.
You jog to burn the fat from your minds!
There is a community out there somewhere, but I am not welcome, I never was. I don’t fucking care anymore, now I can see it for the sham and scam that it is. A bunch of sexists and racists trying to poke each other until their cocks drop off, that ain't a community I want to be part of.
And privileged is an understatement for self proclaimed kings