I came out of childhood confused.
Used to being told what to do,
I understood rules were in place to keep everyone safe,
and made sure that people played fair.
As an adult,
I watch snakes climb ladders.
Alchemists claiming monopolies on properties by manipulating rules to line pockets
in order to create gold.
Politicians too call centre operators.
It's every-man for himself in a culture of targets,
which reward risk takers with gift wrapped pay packets,
as numbers dehumanise the faces of the people they dis-figure,
providing a guilt shield to hide behind.
Then again what I do know.
I try to make noise with a biro that even I don't want to listen too.
News agencies tell me that leaders don't lead by example,
but I struggle to believe what I read because everyone has an angle,
I don't know who to trust,
other than my family,
and I thank God I have them because If I didn’t I'd be truly lost.
Maybe I'm just a bit thick.
Unable to strike a balance and forge an opinion,
from this relentless data stream being force fed into my brain
nil by mouth.
Sometimes I wish society would just fuck off and leave me bee.
Turning off the TV aint even enough.
I step out my house and its billboards,
and posters on public transport,
or cocky types with clipboards,
trying to guilt trip me into donating money by direct debit,
when my own head bobs above and underneath the poverty line,
or when I just want a cup of tea,
I'm asked If I want a muffin or some other overpriced luxury I don't want or need.
Bit I don't begrudge these employees trying to earn a living.
I've been there.
I found it soul destroying.
The more I did it the more tempted I became to hit the self destruct button.
I hit it regularly until I was tapping a predicable rhythm like a 44 beat of life.
Getting bolloxed on booze.
For some doods it meant fighting,
as violence reconnected them with basic human emotions not felt in everyday situations,
giving them a sense of control they rarely felt.
Emotions unleashed in distorted outbursts from drunken karaoke to drunken sex.
Repressed feelings buried deep underneath desires to succeed in careers,
attaining firm footholds on slippery property ladders,
or just simply too make it passed the moulded milestones from plasticine childhoods.
Newspapers make people scared to talk to teens,
when most I meet are allright.
Anytime there’s a fight at a football match,
or an inner city stabbing,
cries of broken Britain and a lost generation,
flood the towns and countryside,
predicting tidal waves of crime and immigration will bring armageddon
too an eerily quiet way of life,
until EastEnders comes on,
or Kerry Katona has another breakdown.
I know I'm ranting.
I don't class myself as left wing or right wing either.
I always liked the idea of centre midfield.
You can see the whole game there,
and create opportunities for both sides,
but I lack the clarity of mind to hold that position,
as well as the conviction.
So my instinct is to hide.
Writing rants in an attempt to make sense of the country in which I reside,
and it's complicated.
Maybe I'm still coming at it from a child’s point of view,
I know I've got a lot of growing up to do,
because at the moment,
I aint got a scooby doo.