Trains, Planes and Public Conveniences (2)

TRAINS,  PLANES AND PUBLIC CONVENIENCES (2)

'Now I'm sensing, My Pretty, you find life quite shitty. Forgive me, of course, if I'm wrong . . . 

'But, I've heard this thing said; it concerns 'Mindfulness'. (You can buy all the books for a song.)'

I carried on chopping the vegetables. 

'Yes . . . 

'It's some kind of a hybrid: a counselling thing (CBT and Zen philosophy). 

'You don't have to believe; just remember to breathe. Study raisins, and learn how to be.'

'I really don't care for dried fruit,' I said.

'Oh, get over yourself,' hissed the Priestess. 

Trains, Planes and Public Conveniences

TRAINS, PLANES AND PUBLIC CONVENIENCES 

Well . . .

Three cheers for Steve Jobs;

I will not be alone. 

Have moved up and on

(I now own an iPhone). 

Unlimited texts; I can

Talk 'til I'm hoarse. 

I can facetime and twitter; 

All part of the course

Of a fully engaged 

Well-connected person.

(I can set out on facebook

The crap that I've done.)

I can video life
As it passes me by and, then,

Post it on YouTube

Without asking why.

And, let's face it;

There's no need 

To bother with more. 

'Cos, when all's said

And done, what's this 

Living meant for?

When this living

Is done then
The one thing
That counts is the way
You describe it.

(Delete all your doubts.)

Farewell To All That (Over And Out)

FAREWELL TO ALL THAT (OVER AND OUT)

Farewell To All That (7)

FAREWELL TO ALL THAT (7)

'So . . . Uncork the bottles and cut the cigars.'

'Have you said your goodbyes? (How I do love tatas)'

'What?' I replied.

The Priestess cleared her throat of phlegm, and said:

'Have you said au revoir, ciao, bis bald, see you soon? (It ain't - after all - like you're off to the moon.) Did they give you a party? Present you a gift?'

'Are you mad? They're just pleased that I'm off; that they're rid. . . Not a peep from the gods: not a thanks, no adieu. . .'

'Well, the gods have their own rules. You shouldn't feel sore.'

'Oh, sod off,' I said.

Farewell To All That (6)

FAREWELL TO ALL THAT (6)

The Priestess sucked the cork from a litre flask of Primitivo di Manduria and spat it on the floor. 

'Now, this caravan thing . . .'

'There are two metal posts dug deep in the ground,  96.8 metres apart. You can rig up a slack-line (it don't hurt the trees). Pull it tight, ratchet hard, that's the art.'

The Priestess bit the end off a Robusto, and reached for a match. 

Then, she sniped:

'Now, look here me Dearie, I'm sick of this stuff; sick to death of it (bored of it, too). You're going away for a couple of months. It's not like you're fucking Thoreau. 

'So, you think you're unique; all this caravan chic. Just don't splash on the chemical loo.'

Farewell To All That (5)

FAREWELL TO ALL THAT (5)

'So, this caravan thing . . .'

'Won't you shut up,' I said. 'You make me see red. Can't you see that I need to make sense of the things that have happened; I've quite had enough. That's just it, I'm afraid: my defence.'

'So . . .'

'There's a wall by the river - the flank of a bridge. You can boulder, traverse or high-ball. I've never been one who could top out with ease but, these days, I don't care if I fall.'

Farewell To All That (4)

FAREWELL TO ALL THAT (4)

'So, this caravan thing; now, what does it mean? Are you planning to be a recluse?'

'Well, my father tried that and it ended up bad. I don't think so. I can't see the use.'

'Reassuring to hear, my Dear,' said the Priestess.

She continued:

'So, this caravan thing; now, what will you do? Are you planning on writing a book?'

'Well.
I've nothing
To say at the end
Of the day.
I will
Probably sit
Smoke then,
Cook.'

'Sheer poetry,' mused the old hag.

Farewell To All That (3)

FAREWELL TO ALL THAT (3)

I stared at the Priestess in horror:

'You're missing the point; I'm packing it in. The mores of society drive me insane. Where's the gain in a system that lies through its teeth; that thrives on bad faith and on misplaced belief?'

'There's no need to bellow,' boomed the Priestess.

I continued (this time, in verse),

'I will not come and live here.
I really can't stand
The role of devotion;
To jump on demand.
The faithful companion;
It's not in my blood.
I have no loving instinct.
(Perhaps, I'm a dud?)
But, I'm sure I'm not willing
To give up my life.
I could've got married,
Become a good wife.
No, it's not in my nature
To nurture and care. . . '

'You will die sad and lonely. Of that, please, beware.'

Farewell To All that (2)

FAREWELL TO ALL THAT (2)

'Well, 'ello there my Dearie. A long time, no see. . . I hear you've been shifting. Now, have you missed me?

'Oh, I've thought of you, longed for you, prayed every night that you'd find your way home and then all would be right.'

The Priestess elbowed her way passed the group of disadvantaged children and support workers, and pressed her fleshy jowls against my cheek.

'I've just sold my house,' I muttered.

'And . . . I know how that's stressful, indeed, I've heard said it's as bad as divorce and interring the dead. Yes, I know what they say; there's not much in this life worse than moving and grieving and dumping the wife.'

'I quit work, too.'

'Ah! now that my Sweet Pea is just stupidity. How on earth will you earn your own crust?'

She looked pensive for a moment.

'Ha! I've got it, of course. (I am quite the gift-horse). You can work for me, Darling. A must.'

Farewell To All That

FAREWELL TO ALL THAT

Now then . . .

I endured
Bloody Hell
But it all turned out
Well.

(Was Mnemosyne gave me the key. . . )

I had languished the summer
Alone on my own.
Had painted the kitchen.
(Must unplug the phone.)

It was written in whitewash;
The walls said it all.
There was nobody here but me.
As I stared at the plaster-cast ear,

I decided to quit,
Farewell to all that;
To the things
One's supposed to hold dear.