deepundergroundpoetry.com

End Game

That survival course on “wreckage” you sold me:  
the one with the sun-blasted cross-roads  
where the dried-up river bisects the underused motorway…,  
well, what else do you reckon when the tolls are so high  
leaving a preference for back-tracks through the desert?  
Coming to, what are you doing here anyway —  
surely you’re not one of those losers who jumped … ?  
You are?? Listen, people like you should be made to  
clean up the mess - and that’s a friendly suggestion.  
I’ll make sure you are not mentioned in Sunday prayers:  
enjoy going with the flow and say hello to the sea’s edge.  
By the way, I shall publish your works under “Anon”  
so you don’t get too big for your boots.  
You’re not the only washed-up pebble on the beach  
begging for forgiveness.  
Talk about a lack of talent! A mature student? No such thing.  
Those with good memories  
are in short supply these days;  
doubled in price in a matter of months.  
Let’s hope it’s all over soon —  
you first.
Written by Josh (Joshua Bond)
Published | Edited 27th Mar 2024
Author's Note
In millennium year 2000, aged 44, I left a very well-placed and secure career in academia, and 'dropped out' of The System in order to try and discover if there was anything 'original' in me. 'Dropping back in' in a meaningfully connected way, on my own truth-terms has been quite a challenge. I thought maybe two years; more like twenty.

(photo credit: Joshua Bond, [recently cut mimosa, which grows like weeds here in Portugal, with the bark stripped])
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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