EX/WHI :: Part Ten

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Arrival

This place looks, fees and smells like London, but is anything but.

Looking down from Tower Hill, to the Bridge on their right, not a car is in sight. Buildings are reproduced in a detail that beggars belief, and whilst they feel very solid none can be entered. Chris had suggested trying to climb one, but Ami’s gut is telling her to remain on the ground, at least for now. Knowing every move is being assessed from above by unseen beings should feel more stressful than is currently the case, but it isn’t. They’re here on good faith, because a request was granted as another was given. As soon as the door to the Cafe closed, there was no way back in. The canteens give them water for a day, no more, and that’s about as much food as they have between them.

This has been a test since the moment they woke up.

‘I wonder if this is intended or an accident.’

Chris stands, hands in pockets, looking across to the Tower and down to the Embankment. It is time to see if they are thinking alike.

‘You mean the location, yes?’

‘The coffee bar was a lot further back into the City than we are now. When we emerged, it wasn’t at the same spot we entered.’

‘Fuck, you’re right. That’s a dry cleaners normally… we must be at least a quarter of a mile closer to the river than we were.’

‘So, the question stands. Why are we here, exactly?’

‘Well, we can’t go back to where we came, presumably that exit is now blocked for good.’

‘Agreed, and having been given equipment to travel with one presumes that’s what’s expected of us. But where do we go?’

‘We don’t know what’s been tested here, apart from our ability to be mouthy and ask for help. That’s me, by the way, not you, that speech to our captors was very impressive.’

‘You still think we’re prisoners? We’ve just been given the means to travel -’

‘Indeed but I assume this scenario is finite. So, where would you go?’

‘Where’s your hotel from here?’

‘About half a mile that way, but why -’

‘If our theory is right, that we were abducted into this scenario at different points… you said your hotel room was where it probably happened. It’s closer than where I was taken, which is a good mile an a bit in the opposite direction. Considering our water and food supplies, and because there’s no idea what might happen next, I’d examine the closer location first.’

The smile Chris gives is a genuine boost to morale: not only does he agree with the plan, it makes him happy she’s on top of this. The backpack is on and he’s already walking away, taking the lead. There’s no issue with following, or that he’s not 100% in the game.

Ami wonders, not for the first time, if their observers are happy with what they’re seeing.


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Simple // Four


Everybody’s angles point obtuse: stop,
insufficient effort placed, polish black.
Countless waves, critical voices yelling
harsh pronouncement, without support offered.
I don’t like this, refusal to say why
easier to fake interest at distance;
subtweet poor arrogance, emotion free
so no-one ever hears or tries escape.

Then finally, in storms most brutal phase,
subtle eye of comprehension opens
surveying emerged truth: competition
dictates largest, angriest troll alive.
No race to finish first or best, just be
what soul decides most useful waste of space.
Your subtweets are a pointless exercise
ignore these haters: plough deeper furrows.


 

Simple // Two

Direction must therefore be altered: point
yourself west, towards countless setting sons
commanding consumption for their futures.
Resist continued desire; imitate
nobody except your own past echoes,
apps, urls, deconstructed guidance.

Count these beats in digital times, making
snapshots with conjugal rhymes, resultant
overnight follower count nirvana.
The future’s already, out of date meme
newspaper’s print without understanding
proclaiming destruction before forethought.


 

Simple // One

Simple // One

The poetry of others is not mine:
read, assimilated and digested
it is that foreign country of times past.
Their verses shimmer, tantalising coins
inside stone fountains raining forth wisdom;
acid rain eroding, confidence gone.

I come late to this jamboree, grasping
baggage, pitted with footprints, refusals
stamped between eyeballs: too simplistic, no.
You cannot join our party: name’s not down
that attitude’s a joke, go rhyme elsewhere;
playing a young woman’s game here, sweetheart.


Simple Song

There are big poems as yet undiscovered within me. They are hidden behind bad memories, submerged in low, foul smelling lakes of recrimination and angst. These words are the marrow in bones that move a body in other directions, and by understanding their significance, the whole of my existence becomes smarter and stronger. I’m away right now, and whilst brain takes a much needed couple of weeks away from a full-time screen, there’s the words that have been left behind.

playchicken.gif

Starting next Monday, until the end of the month, you’ll get two verses of the New Poetry per day on Monday and Wednesday, with EX/WHI on Fridays. It’s a window into the part of my brain undergoing renovation. You can’t see much through this darkened, dirty glass but let the management assure you that these changes are worth the vastly inflated construction fees, and you’ll be able to see the sea from here. Oh, and you can have the chicken for absolutely nothing. Gratis. All yours, squire.

Strap in people, there’s turbulence coming.

Poetry Archive :: Release

I went dumb and went rhyming. Don’t @ me, people, I’m emotionally spent, plus by the time you read this I will have done two massive bike events in two weeks. You can spend the ten days or so reading the better examples of my poetry via Social media. For now, please allow this woman a chance to go sit and relax for ten days…


Release

Only seven more days remain
‘Til holiday’s starting, again:
Excitement is always the same
Kid within me bounces, no shame.

This year, I’ll be living the dream
Ambition from childhood our scene:
To Italy, move at full steam
Don’t anyone mention ice cream.

For seven days this is our home
Whole family, going to Rome:
Staring at basilica’s dome
Sightseeing, then time on our own.

We’re staying a way out of town
Hope our villa is not a let down:
Am not on vacation to frown
Don’t want to have sorrows to drown.

Adventure is what we will make
Occasional rules then to break
Relaxation, time now to take
I really hope there will be cake.


Poetry Archive :: Desist

This is a new high-water mark for my Haiku.

May they all be as good as this going forward.


Desist

At some point, in time
the decision, will; be made
from where you began.

This life divided
into sections: stare backward
to here, an ending.

All is requisite
furnished, resigned: withdrawing
requirements amiss.

Cease and abstain, fool
it is broken: abandoned
existence shattered.

Destroying oneself
for entertainment: pointless
folly; wrecked, alone.