A sunshine Friday evening sitting at my desk, my mind sits open, flows and ebbs;
As I tap my toes in an imagined serenity, laughing without care, in a humbled caress- at the world which holds and forms within my head;
Asking the darkened cloak which environs, to banish itself and resist the pulsating molar of snap driven nightmares- benched watermarks to which we all succumb.
Asking this mind of careless frivolity to soon, sometime, release, deplete and reverse this powerless mind set which condemns and condescends without casualty.
Asking myself, why the nicotine still throbbing on my tongue beholds itself to me so firm- in spite of a knowledge that such poison delivers no rest.
Asking to be free from holding within- a place in which sequined ladies bounce freely and loose.
Asking to be free from the saturated wrongdoings of a nettled lost- a space that exists within my own complex.
Asking to be free from boundaries- the diminished squares of circular wrongs.
Asking to be free from self harm Tuesdays- at least until this free wheeling weekend ride of resistance completes and folds back in.
Asking those proprietors of knowledge to pass it on freely and unbound- not to submit and subvert those who thirst at this well.
Asking those holders of wet thirst, to leave the grass to be- to unchop their cut down heart tress.
Asking and requesting those political, whom play and screw; strummers of my guitared heart to lay down their salivating mouths and gyrating arseholes.
Asking and demanding that my will become liberated- not controlled from stone buildings (inside which those bulging wallets and waists dismiss of me)
Asking and echoing Sutch- requesting a three foot wall around the entire British Isles to trip up any night time invader.
Asking in earnest and without a hint of jape, for recycle centres to be given their respect, for the abolishment of leisure time ( as the word leisure means permitted !), for fuel taxed acceptance of responsibility controlled cars, and for less departmental bureaucracy centred red taped tales- spun, open wounds of a dark taste.
Asking not for blame- or who to blame- but instead searching beyond the scapegoating chatterations and asking for real answers to actual problems- real life progressions.
Asking for conscious diplomatic answers, not pulpit publicity seeking- a false CCTV reality, a viewing hollowness of lies and bitten fists.
Asking for some time off this desolate road, and instead- for this to be replaced with solitudal allowances of thought and forgiven rehabilitational robust opened minded considerations.
Asking for dance to be released from the grip of commodity- a place in which onlookers applaud the flexibility of supple delight in any shape, move or form- in any song, jig and full movement of free kicking legs- a place in which that I for once, am allowed to hit the height of such flow without cold looks and harsh eyes upon my starched back, and be able to wriggle each and every muscle and limb in a harmonious fluxicity (without wrong).
Asking for wood, soil, stone and plant to be allowed to wander at their own pace in shops- without wrapping packaged paper, plastic bags and price tags.
Asking for a free reign over the many woollen fenced pastures- a place in which the daisies spring up and ripen of their own free will.
Asking for a chance to exist as my self, aware and knowing- to flow in an open growth
Asking for numerical impotency- a day instead spent sat listening to the river laugh; receptive to its blue curdled wisdom.
Asking and demanding for a write to decide my own passage, as I wander down hazardous pathways, through closed eyed pastures and around unknowing corners- even if this be the wrong turn, at least this mistake be my own!