Creativity – It’s All in the Mind

Resentment is like a play in three acts,
A level of restriction so tall and so wide that the tools don’t exist to conquer it.
Each day I’m sick of passing the same old problems,
Same old people,
Same old ideals.
To shake off these chains, to let that which binds, set free,
Forever trapped inside existentiality,
The root of all my philosophical problems,
A tightened tragedy for all to see.

I see it coming, I do; gliding through the night,
Binding that which allows consciousness to flutter and suffocating it in the dark.
Desperation – it’s all subpar. Every word wrought in glory, reflecting the glow of the moon.
Yet still I fight it, making a meaning more than there ever has been.
For me, it’s not pride, it’s not guts – there is no glory, no reward.
Just a need to expel that which drives me, in the hope I can become something more,
Driven by a mere need to create, to set free and to smash the shackles that hold it down.

And to belong to someone.

Condemnation, Despair and Spin

A persecution of authority based on ideals,
A whole new system is biting at the heels.
They’re baying for blood, rabid as mad dogs,
And they will take all they feel they are owed.

So, as this new day for design is calling,
New players enter the game,
They’re hungry for the glamour, attracted by the blame.
But not on them, no, they want the bones to chew on.
With their ideals attached to their claws,
Sprung out in order to tear the land to pieces.

These dogs – puppies longing to be wolves – are sick from the inside,
Ideologically, metaphorically and categorically outside of class,
As top dog they seem not to care about the mutts,
Nor the bitches, the scavengers and their pups,
Not even the runts – merely themselves,
Even as a whole nation screams “no!” they lock their jaws tighter,
Ready to cut us all to ribbons and threaten us with petrol and a lighter.

Micro Fiction: Every City Needs a Villain…

Complete with lightening and the sound of seven thunders, the skies opened and the heavens poured. Then all hell broke loose.

The city – awash with thieves, thugs and demons – descended into chaos. The police couldn’t contain the violence. Innocent people were slaughtered and fires blazed in every street. If a hero was ever needed, then now would probably the ideal time for a Batman like figure to emerge and rustle up the scum.

The city can keep dreaming.

Up high in my ivory tower I watch the madness engulf the city. Atop this watchtower, this glass monolith that stands as a symbol of my empire, I keep a peace, of sorts.

The wind creeps up again as the lightning cracks across the sky once more. The chaos is of my making, and I shall nurture it. Taking to the night I begin to wonder what it has in store. I soar through the streets, the rain battering off my helmet, wings carrying me over the riots, the flames and the pain. Every story with a hero has a villain and I’m happy to play that part. The petty thieves can have their looting and their robbing. The psychopaths can have their raping and their killing. All of it just eludes heroes in charge of this town, the ones who try so hard to remove my crown.

Descending into a back alley, I set my sights on the national trust bank. Of all the buildings in the city this fortress of wealth is one of the very few that don’t have an alarm going off but that’s because it’s one of the only establishments that hire a private security firm to guard it 24-7. It might never have occurred to you, but in a city where superheroes exist it’s always a good idea to ensure that all banks are guarded 24-7.

I swoop in like a storm, taking out the guards, the lights and the security cameras in a matter of moments with a flurry of kicks, punches and bullets. It’s not pretty, it never is. A media mogul, a guy who owns newspapers, football teams, TV stations and film studios all over the world has decided he wants to break into the vault of a heavily armed back. It should have been harder than this. I was surprised that it wasn’t so. I chucked out a couple of smoke grenades, and put on a gas mask taking out more guards as I go. I count 5 so far, and I’ve only just entered the lobby.

The adrenaline surged as I headed downstairs towards the vault encountering more resistance as I went, taking them out with clotheslines and drop kicks. Like something from a wrestling match. The vault was emptied as I had incapacitated all the guards. I punched in the code and the huge steel door unlocked with a metallic clunk. Pulling the door back I entered and started loading up discarded money bags with cash, bonds and the contents of any safe deposit box I get my hands on. I didn’t care much for the contents. The money, the jewels, the cheques…everything was just done for the thrill of it. I revelled in the rush, so much so that I almost completely ignore the creaking noise from the safe door. I ran towards it in the hope I can make it out in time but is slams shut and locks fast. I’m trapped.

All for a bit of fun.

A Symptom of Surveillance

The TV’s got your digits; the phone always knows when you’re in.
Amazon’s got a habit, one that a search engine can’t kick.
When you drive your car at night, paranoia, paranoia, paranoia always bites.
Even on your mobile phone, they know your route home.

On the night line as the train takes you home, you forgot to buy a ticket – perhaps a rebellion.
The conductors got a wink; he never stops to think…
That they’ve got his inside leg, shoes, tie and neck.

Amongst some other things.

So, the “man” he has a record, kept with strict instructions,
“Do not open unless advised”.
But every day it’s the same, advised in a different way,
To keep close scrutiny.

The doctor, he’s the same – much like the banker, the landlord and the state.
Casting glances with keeping eyes, waiting for the day.
Its paranoia once again, I know, I know it just the same.
But don’t you see them watching, trying to place the blame?

What was it the bible said?
“No one can buy or sell unless he has the mark, that is, the name of the beast or the number of its name.”
It’s just vaudeville. Keep your eyes on the cheap seats;
if you think they’re watching you, you’re probably right.