Paul Stanway
Extremely eloquent ways of saying virtually nothing beyond the obvious, that we are, sooner or later, doomed.
HOW TO KEEP CONTROL IN A SOCIETY OF STRIVERS
sonnet
Seven billion souls all yearn for purpose.
This would be a problem, if we weren’t dumb
By birth or by choice - whatever. The surplus
Cash pettifoggers extract also numbs
Which is smartly done - they engineer meaning
And control demand, with self-policing
Networks of status and distinction. Feelings
. . .
"GOD BECOMES A CONTENDER", AND "SOCRATIC CONCEIT (UP MY ARSE)"
One And Two And One And Two And One And Two And Rest.
1: GOD BECOMES A SERIOUS CONTENDER FOR GIVING MY LIFE A SENSE OF MEANING
"I like cat videos." I said. "In particular I like hairless cats being strangled or microwaved."
"Sorry. I don't think this is the right job for you."
"It's cute. I know [laughs laughs] . . .
THE CIGARETTE
sonnet
The cigarette is less stale a breath of air
Than I get from this sad, tumid pairing.
I'd rather die of cancer in this lair
Than give my room a decent airing.
The pairing is me plus word processor.
Silent orison - the cursor's half reptile,
The dead still, bored stare. Half old professor
. . .
The Current Social Malaise: An Exploratory Poetic Interlude
Neolibtard Globalist Sheeple's DSM Mental Health Spreadsheet
That the magic wears off over time seems obvious
Now I'm over the age of thirty-five.
I fail to feel anything from taking this drug.
My life stopped twenty years ago. Back then, I was capable of love
And saying "Yes. OK." to things like going out.
Life was not a nightmare
And sleep was no dreamless . . .
