I Dare You (cynical spoken word)
I am aware this is a pain in the arse to read. But please try.
Nothing is certain.
You can never be
certain you won’t
turn around
one fine day
and find a damn
object between your shoulder
blades.
Trust is not all it is
cracked up
to be.
The only cracks are the
ones in
the armour
we have spent so many
careful years
constructing.
No-one is
exception
to this
vital rule.
Even the poor lonely
bastard doing
the stabbing
will one day find
their ‘kindred spirit’ and
quite soon after find the
bloody
demise of
a planned
betrayal.
Tell me I am wrong.
I dare you.
Look me in these
blood-shot
eyes and
tell me
we are not made to
stand alone,
to be our own
towers of
strength
and any leaks in this air tight
persona will
be the end,
not of all things, just one
grain of
sand in this
dysfunctional castle.
To quickly disspell the
popular notion
that is a supremely
twisted
master
ruling over
our
every move,
there is
none.
It is not the
merciful-my-arse
Creator,
not the fat
hypocrites
who control,
to the last anal detail,
what us poor frail
consumers
are exposed to
night and day.
Nor the suits who
congeal in
our landmarks,
making our decisions.
There is only us,
the specks who
must slog
through in our
isolation,
making every
wrong choice
and taking the hand
of every
dodgy
character who crosses
our path.
Even if
There was,
what would they have
us do?
I hear your
Tiny outrage.
Who am I,
This arrogant
and morbid
authority of all,
to tell you
there is no hope?
I understand
hope is a fatal
thing to lose,
we would soon be
drained
of all resolve
to march on.
We would
no doubt
be faced with a mass
suicide
the like of
which to world will
never see.
Now would that not be something?
Honesty weights on
the opposite
of hope.
I hold truth in higher
Esteem then
fantastical of
peace and love.
Flower-power
be damned,
we have
now entered this
downward spiral,
a cesspool
of corruption
from which there is no
relief.
I will walk
alone,
observing simple
similarities I share
with mankind.
Similar, but
Not the same.
I seek nothing,
urging no revolt.
Why would I?
We all have
the capacity
to dig ourselves
out of any
pit
and if you don’t
I have no
pity
to spare.
Let one in
and a flood
will be let loose,
one I am more then
willing
to live without.
The whiners and the
dying
can suffer
in silence.
My ears
Are full of
rock and roll
to keep me away.
But how can that
work,
if I am making a
conscious effort
to avoid it?
Rhetorical questions.
Lifes full stop.
Challenge this.
I dare you.
Nothing is certain.
You can never be
certain you won’t
turn around
one fine day
and find a damn
object between your shoulder
blades.
Trust is not all it is
cracked up
to be.
The only cracks are the
ones in
the armour
we have spent so many
careful years
constructing.
No-one is
exception
to this
vital rule.
Even the poor lonely
bastard doing
the stabbing
will one day find
their ‘kindred spirit’ and
quite soon after find the
bloody
demise of
a planned
betrayal.
Tell me I am wrong.
I dare you.
Look me in these
blood-shot
eyes and
tell me
we are not made to
stand alone,
to be our own
towers of
strength
and any leaks in this air tight
persona will
be the end,
not of all things, just one
grain of
sand in this
dysfunctional castle.
To quickly disspell the
popular notion
that is a supremely
twisted
master
ruling over
our
every move,
there is
none.
It is not the
merciful-my-arse
Creator,
not the fat
hypocrites
who control,
to the last anal detail,
what us poor frail
consumers
are exposed to
night and day.
Nor the suits who
congeal in
our landmarks,
making our decisions.
There is only us,
the specks who
must slog
through in our
isolation,
making every
wrong choice
and taking the hand
of every
dodgy
character who crosses
our path.
Even if
There was,
what would they have
us do?
I hear your
Tiny outrage.
Who am I,
This arrogant
and morbid
authority of all,
to tell you
there is no hope?
I understand
hope is a fatal
thing to lose,
we would soon be
drained
of all resolve
to march on.
We would
no doubt
be faced with a mass
suicide
the like of
which to world will
never see.
Now would that not be something?
Honesty weights on
the opposite
of hope.
I hold truth in higher
Esteem then
fantastical of
peace and love.
Flower-power
be damned,
we have
now entered this
downward spiral,
a cesspool
of corruption
from which there is no
relief.
I will walk
alone,
observing simple
similarities I share
with mankind.
Similar, but
Not the same.
I seek nothing,
urging no revolt.
Why would I?
We all have
the capacity
to dig ourselves
out of any
pit
and if you don’t
I have no
pity
to spare.
Let one in
and a flood
will be let loose,
one I am more then
willing
to live without.
The whiners and the
dying
can suffer
in silence.
My ears
Are full of
rock and roll
to keep me away.
But how can that
work,
if I am making a
conscious effort
to avoid it?
Rhetorical questions.
Lifes full stop.
Challenge this.
I dare you.