[Image from Flickr]
[Inspired by Oddisee’s “After Thoughts”:]
He was seeking a thought, single seed of creation
come from within, self-made, no divine inspiration
put forth smugly in vein intellectually blessed
so as to differentiate, separate one from the rest.
Always active, ever high, on the possibility of tomorrow
(Doesn’t watch the news, read it, or listen to radio, all the sorrow
just ignored with head bent, eyes on the ground:
this way he’ll be safe, this way his purpose will be found
just there, round the corner of the block, as he walks –
stomps rather – over another soul, innocent or not; as he chalks
up another victim on his way to success).
All this external, but inside what a mess
is he hiding, away from gleeful testimony of those he destroys.
Back behind closed doors, he’s a state, still a boy
desperate for recognition parental. Languishing in stagnation,
lacking the patience of Job, lacking any biblical inspiration.
Wants to feel alive, join the rush, feel the crush
and become one of the many in the multitudinous vibration
of humanity, march with his brothers side by side, one by one,
yet together, hearts beating to a giant single drum.
These dreams still exist, give him hope, in his head,
but on the street, in the office, those dreams are dead.
[Copyright © N R Nolan 2016]