There's a little blue dot
in the static of my mind.
I think it might be God
hiding from mankind.
I catch it looking in me
from the corner of my brain.
And when it realises,
disappears once again.
It doesn’t want to be seen,
but I know it’s always there.
Watching, waiting, learning,
of each joy and despair.
No judgement does it give me
that luxury’s all mine.
For my actions are all choiceless;
base, neutral or divine.
So once again I’ll gaze
into the cosmic mind
And see God hiding in there -
What else will I find?
My name, yes it’s Betty
and I’m ashamed by the dirt.
I scrub as hard as I can,
till I no longer hurt.
I’ve never fit in,
never found a true place.
Never got married
and never wore lace.
I don’t like myself
and that’s why I’m so clean.
So please don’t judge me
as you don’t know what I’ve seen.
I’m tired of this.
You never stop.
Am/Pro switch changes the difficulty
of the hand held space invaders game.
Took turns playing it in the back of the car
in the dark with my brother.
We tried to shoot the red led spaceships.
They glowed in the dark.
It’s dark now.
Amstrad, Commodore (when I’m) 64.
Never had a computer. I always wanted one.
My brother had an Amiga.
Accused me of breaking it when I was sick and didn’t go to school one day.
He still doesn’t believe me.
His friend h
What value are the moments so cherished that pass forever into eternity?
How many tears will dampen the dust of a line of generations laid to rest?
Whose smiles we fondly remember can light the permanent darkness of a life lost in time?
Shall I watch you die?
Shall I hold your hand as your breathing labours?
As you struggle to see, will I gaze on you and look deep into your fading eyes,
searching for life,
searching for you?
Will I watch your mouth,
half open, moving semi-rhythmically now,
as you try to breathe,
try to stay with life,
try to stay with me?
Will my own breathing change as your gasps become weaker?
Powerless to stop the changes already set in motion,
soon set in stone.
When you breathe for the last time, no more exhales left,
will I stop breathing too?
Will I die?
But I’ll remain alive,
My countenance will reflect yours,
my being forever
When you die, you’ll be all alone,
whether smashed in a car wreck,
a hospice or home.
Even surrounded by friends who believe they are near,
when your brain functions dwindle,
you’ll be alone with your fear.
As your eyes become glassy, unseeing and dim,
there’ll be no one but you to face death’s dreadful grin.
It will take all your functions your life shall condemn,
yet your loved ones won’t see
it will happen to them.
Once you’re burned they will leave
and go home with their grief,
to forget you in time,
with no more disbelief.
Until the day comes when their bodies expire,
and then just like you, they
Think if you can
that in one hand you are holding a piece of string.
That is your life.
You can only see a tiny portion of the string in your grasp. You can’t see the end.
That is your awareness.
Imagine now a pair of scissors in your other hand.
You begin to cut away the string, little by little, piece by piece.
every second the scissors snip.
And you find to your horror that you can’t stop snipping.
At the same time you realise that the string is getting shorter.
That is your dying.
The pieces that fall away collect in a pile on the floor and become jumbled up.
Those are your memories.
One day there’ll be no more string
I look back on myself and reflect on the past,
the pain that I feel hasn’t gone - it will last,
till my shell finally dies with no longer a breath
and my brain switches off with the start of my death.
Any sorrow I’ve caused, any that I have felt,
won’t matter much longer, for soon I will melt.
The right I have done, along with the wrong,
will become one and the same in my memory’s song.
No weeping I’ll see, no words will I hear,
no eulogy spoken, nor the fall of a tear.
Though wreaths may be given along with the flowers,
I’ll be turned into ash in less than four hours.
Then once I have cooled I’ll be
My song won't play anymore.
I lost the means a long time ago,
although I can't quite remember when.
I can vaguely recall the tune.
It had the melody of life,
and words of love.
The chorus was filled with romance and promises,
adventure and possibilities...
But I can barely hear it now.
I can see others around me singing similar songs.
I wonder if they know that one day too
the tune for them will stop?
Well thank you very much, I'm sincerely grateful for the huge compliment. However, don't sell yourself so short; you have a good eye and create some interesting work full of detail and unusual perspectives. You often incorporate multiple figures in the same drawing. That takes a hell of a lot of determination and work. Many don't realise just how difficult this is.