No place to be

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Yeah, I were a soldier me, constantly, for years, still am now I’m on me arse. All these gobshites with their feckin poppies. I see watermelon smiles — to the ears, not the eyes, unexploded ieds — women-with tanned arms walking for miles. Men with children on their backs … jumping into the sea without thinking, to avoid me, the army. Mebbe someone, some being, somewhere, will save me? From what? Meself? Who knows? I cannot swim out of this net, trapped by memories.. What is the word “crucified” for? Childhood was all about names and games. Played together — in any old weather Now, I jump out of my own skin! My own veins, arteries: body parts with ropes attached. The counsellor said to let go of all second hand destructive sensations. So, I do not hide, seek, get lost, get found, shout out “Shut up!” , duck live fire — sure, that’s not me at all. I do not worry to go blind. ….Chaplin-tripe spouted: “We simply think again, what does the term”crucify” signify? “ To connect us to the sound-and-vision-muffler-the-civilian- chaplin wears, tucked away, safe in HQ? I do not want to spread the pain. If it’s all the same, by you.



◄ An inception into art

Shadowland ►


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