Life is a Gas

Would have Should have Almost did

Sometimes, when you sit and wonder where it all went wrong,
does your mind cast you back to an obvious moment?
A moment, where if only you had said something different, your path would have taken you in a very different direction?
My mind reels out a long thin wire of potential could have’s and should have been’s
I should have said No
I could have tried harder
I would have killed him if I had stayed.
Sometimes, it’s best just to let these things go
For the truth which is unveiled fantastical in reverie
Is sometimes just too frightening to think about

I would have I should have
I almost did

© Marjorie Razorblade 2009

High Hopes

At times like these I always wonder what the point of all this really is
I wonder about the rush of excitement and love
The possibilities of where it all might lead
Where might it lead?
Its exciting to think of, flushed pink with excitement young and alive
Its all such a thrill to imagine the best of what you have getting better
But then
The first argument comes along and somehow over time
The gleaming prize of possibilities begins to tarnish ever so slightly,
The comments are darker
The truth of the matter less tactful
More hurtful,
And thicker the tainting becomes
And one day you run your finger along its surface and find a black mark left behind on your finger
Its all that’s left
Is this what happens to everyone who wants more from their life?
Expects perfection in small measures?
Does everyone go through this to come out the other side harder, more difficult to read and navigate, more embedded in disappointment, weaker willed?
Or do these rules only apply to us?
I wonder where it all went wrong.

I had such high hopes.

I wonder if one day we can both find what we are looking for.

But Its not here
And I’ve been blind to that fact for some time now
So I think I’ll keep searching

As ultimately,
I still have high hopes

© Marjorie Razorblade 2009

Comments: Slight return to black and white for 5 minutes. Life is not all doom and gloom though, all you need is creative space and understanding of the person you love to get you through even the most terrible times. Or gin and tonic. What do I know?! I'm no mans psychologist.

A small brush with Death and Reality

Today was my first encounter with death this year.
It is only 2009 and I am not expecting him to come into such close contact for a few more years yet.
Ultimately
The world has bridges that need rebuilding, bridges, which never should have been burned down in the first place
A society, which cannot be reached
Parents who cannot be trained
Children who cannot be helped
And brows who cannot understand the concept of money being something which is earned
“Give us your money,” he said after using the word “Oi” to get my attention.
“Give us your money.”
“Us” as there was just him, I thought such a grammatical error in demand was laid down awkwardly.
He needed money to catch the train to Durrington, which is about half an hour’s walk away, I said no, walk.
The torrent that follows is an extract of the overall conversation, which followed
“You bitch, I only want a quid, have you got a spare quid?”
“No.” I walked away not wishing to divulge any more, nor spare any more of my time that goes with a request for ‘spare change’
I have nothing spare for you. I need all of it for me and anyone else who gives a fuck.

“When I tell you to do something, you fucking well do it.” She said inches away from his face, grabbing strongly at his arm and shaking him. A slap to his small frame confirmed what I thought:
You are a brow, you are not responsible enough to parent this child, you cannot, and will not ever raise this child to command respect and give respect.
I walked on, terrified of interfering in matters which do not concern me.
I will not have children. I want children, but I will not let them be born into this.

It is unacceptable.

And then seeing the man wheeled out in a body bag onto the gurney in the unmarked ambulance made me realise that all of us,

Live uncontrollable in unison and,
Will die alone.

© Marjorie Razorblade 2009

Comments: Dead body in front of me, lumpen proletariat around me, earth waiting beneath my feet and skies of questions above. I only walked into town to change a pair of shoes which were too big. Suddently the world was all too big at the same time.