Waiting for the Duster

 

I sit there sometimes just looking at my hand

Is it real?  Am I here?  I ask

 

Oh fuck, it will probably hit me soon

Bet you it smashes me right in the middle of fucking the head

 

An exorcist told me once that its all just a physical illusion

I don’t know if that’s true…But I do know…At least, I think I do anyway

 

We create our own reality, we create our own version of real, with our thoughts

The highs, lows and fair to middling plateaus

 

The philosophers say that, its not the events that cause the dips and rises

But our reaction to what has occurred

 

We find peace in altered perspective and our ability to shift beliefs

We find peace in holding life events up to the light of reason

 

We find peace in surrender, so maybe its not an illusion

Maybe control is the illusion, we just have so very little of it

 

We cant change people or the world around us or what has past

We can only change ourselves and what we choose to do next

 

I do believe we can change ourselves…… I have to

Otherwise there’s probably no point to being here

 

Maybe believing I can is what makes it so

And its in believing that we are given the ability to create

 

I bet you its flying through the air right now, high velocity!

Just about to make impact with my noggin.

 

That board duster will twat me so hard, that as I swing my legs to regain balance

On the chair I’m leaning back on casually day dreaming, Ill fart loudly

 

And all the other kids will laugh, as I quickly try to suck up the line of slobber

That’s trailing from my mouth onto my school shirt

 

And as the teacher Screams “THOMPSON!!!!”

A shocked ten year old me will say out loud

 

                                                  “Fuck me! Was that real?!”                      

 

Ged Thompson 06/06/13