If’s and when’s and maybe’s & all the words that fuck me up.

I sit here dreaming in the furniture of my youth.
Happy dreams that established me.
Playing out in the warm wide sun.
Soldiers trekking through the garden known.
I’m older now but wish I could
Open the door and return back there.
Those happy days without end or sight
Of deadlines which haunt me now and bind my mind.

I see myself as once I was
Smile alight on a tender face
Knowing none of the bullshit which haunts me now.
Running amok with innocent imagination on fire
And the rockery a battlefield of happy toys.
I’d climb on windows and escape the mess
Of Lego strewn on bloodied floor
Walls of Hadrian crossed the room
And days were spent in battles grown.

Then came desktops and cassette radios all climbed by men in suits
Uniforms of war and guns of fun
Stretched high and thrust upon the shelves of books.
I’d spend my days in conquest or happy defeat
Knowing that tomorrow I would do the same.
No need for doubt, no need for pain,
No need to care what mankind did or died outside.

Freedom is the word which recalls my youth
Playing football in the local park or street
Climbing trees and laughing loud, reading books and making plans
I’m older now, but I escape to then, I return to the past to find myself.
He who’s lost in this frightening grown up world
One of death and hate & fear and sin
Not like the world in which I began.

A child stays fresh, his mind alive
Fighting dragons and playing games, being cops and stealing space
All these things & more I held so dear.
The if’s and buts and when’s or maybe’s
They were never words when I was young.
I owned the world & I was king
I was someone special, alive, unique
I was as big as my ego wished itself to be.
Could life ever be like that again?

~ aka: A Lament For The Old Days
*one song, one programme, was all it needed to send me into a spin today.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FKd2G9CYKmE
http://www.bbc.co.uk/iplayer/episode/b05r7nxx/onehit-wonders-at-the-bbc

© ed simkins

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Confusion Illusion

Encamped within the blankets of the midnight sun

I am lost, & scared; confused indeed.

I know little of truth, if truth exists

I speak & the stories I tell are false

Love or hate, desire or power, I cannot ascertain their strength nor value & virtue, legality or even sense?

I speak my mind; delusions play.

A fatal flaw, a door, an entrance to another world I seek.

I stare at life & conquer fear & a lie

I tell you things, I draw these things,

But the fear of the heart persists

& I question you.

Bewitched by lust, controlled by want

My mind facilitates the loan of thought

A fabric made of fables known to women of a certain age

& all who lie

– The human race

Mindless, naked bodies in feminine & incredible disguise, I seek your bliss!

& riches made in notes which burn.

My wallet holds secrets bound

Credit cards unused & lewd ownership of cars.

& the biggest lie?

That I exist

& in this told I find myself chained & fixed & worse controlled

By banks & dreams & Hollywood,

Of governments & gestures shook.

Nor Friends & family I say exist

& sex or intellect, none do persist

& so I dream of sleep & waste my time

& watch the sun arise, as tomorrow flies.

A sad reprise but wonder works.

I ask you – how much freedom do we have?

~ The power of the unknown scares the hell of me.

© ed Simkins