We weren’t really at the gardening stage,
didn’t talk about how wounded we were,
how sometimes a mood could take us.
We didn’t know magic was collapsing
and adopted strategies weren’t working.
Good liars are canny with their audience
and that relationship is worth considering.
Discussion generally focusses on intention
rather than the role of the listener
but lying is a social act and can create
what is sometimes called the plausible,
can create passion and distress, laughter
and dismay when truth’s revealed later on.

From my books I learnt great sadness,
derogatory names and social vividness.
I adopted the use of an ear trumpet,
assumed a limp and spoke out about
filth oozing from the gutters and
the moral decay all around. It’s hard
to live an energetic life but I tried,
although I could no longer compose,
write or undertake rambunctious
holiday activities. Sordidly innocent
and deterministically depressed,
I sought solace in educated women
and conversation with elected rulers.

At this point we need to look beyond
our impoverished political landscape
and compensate, reconcile and buy
another drink. This is a founding moment,
we should be more radiant than gloomy
even if we have been beaten up, are so
damaged we are almost no longer human.
I spend my time driving aimlessly around
the ring road, treating life as a journey,
burning intensely with a new hatred
for all authority and those who continue
to use the word ‘normal’. Memory is all
about being able to change the past.



   © Rupert M Loydell

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