E X P E R I M E N T S _

Clickclicksnap
You're holding it the wrong way!
Forcedflash
It won't recognise your face.
Clickclicksnap
Can you get my shoes in please?
Forcedflash
But without decapitating me?
Clickclicksnap
Your eyes are shining red!
Forcedflash
The light makes you look possesed.
Clickclicksnap
Or ask that guy to take it?
Forcedflash
Ooh is this light meant to be lit?
Clickclicksnap
Wait, lemme just brush my hair.
Forcedflash
You weren't looking, look right there.
Clickclicksnap
I've got one! (at last) You look so sweet!
Forcedflash
Oh no that's terrible! Delete, delete!

You seem stupid
Or a little misguided
I haven't yet decided.

You appear absent
Or slightly elsewhere
Which judgement is fair?

You look lost
Or at this point not found
I hear that's going round.

Are you stupid?
You calim it's misguidetion
Well, I've reached my decision.




I know that 'misguidetion' is not a word. You can make 'em up in poetry[:

Shoot them down and call it self-defence
There'll be no-one to contradict you left.
Shoot 'em up and call it necessary
Who'll there be to question your authority?
Shoot them down and justify it after
To go without fixed reason is smarter.
Shoot 'em up and if pressed deny it later
No-one'll dare call you a faker.

It's the pin drop
That breaks the silence.
It's the whisper
In the quiet.
It's the shadow
On a white wall,
It's the wind
That's a tad too cool,
It's the twitch
Of a statue's hand,
It's the throw
That never lands,
It's the flicker
Of a picture's eyes,
It's the jerk
That takes you by surprise.
It is not a crash
Or bang or shout or scream.
Not a step or stride or leap.
Not a look or stare or gaze.
Not an ongoing but a phase.

And in that town there was an house;
Inhabited by one man and his spouse,
A child or two or perhaps maybe more,
A dog or cat that would not be ignored.

The family were kind and good to us;
Mischief or language would bring no tut,
But for violence would they object
And be quite cold until we left.

Such a contradiction must be explained
The cause of their concern I must investigate
I asked questions, nosed around, dug deep
To find why this trait they did not keep

And that the man was married previous
And treated his wife in a way quite different
Showered her with fists instead of kisses
And kept, at the time, the second wife as mistress

Take one and his daughter ran away
And where they went they would not say
And for fear that such violence would start again
That welcoming second wife was always tense.

I don't care that your heart is bleeding!
And if that's the case I think that really
It's surgery and not me you're needing.

How to you expect me to fix your mind?
I have no expereince in things of this kind.
A psychatrist would be more help, you will find.

And that your sould is lost - well what can I do?
I hardly remember where you left it more than you.
Why don't you just buy one new?

I cannot mend your head, I've no sticky tape!
Besides, I'm busy and I think you're a fake.
I don't truly believe that your heart will break.

Stop being such a hypochondriac and leave me.
You are no longer my responsibility.
If you must, find someone else for your healing.

Watch your mouth!
Hear your eyes.
Stand very still,
To smell your cries.

Shut your face!
Close your lips.
Cover that space,
Pull up the zips.

Put a sock in it!
Maybe a shoe too.
Stuff them in quick,
Else we can't quiet you.

I bite my lip and keep cool
For I know this must be done
To the outsider it seems cruel
But neither receives fun.

This is my penance;
A few moments of abuse.
It was expected
And it will be over soon.

From these intolerable moments
Of offense and stressing
I gain no solace
But I learn my lesson.

If you must inquire,
The forced smiles make a liar
Of those who claim to know
The girls in the photo.

This is what will happen next:

You will return to them, explain your accident,
Retract your mistake, claim it was fake,
You were not authorised and you apologise,
You simply mispoke, it was all a joke,
Whatever lie or excuse is necessary to prove,
The orders have changed, events rearranged.

They will listen. They will obey.
They will allow you to have your say.
They will not question or accuse.
They will not shout or abuse.
They will continue to love you.

But do as I say or remember true:
They only love you because I told them to.

I've manipulated silence into an art form
And my prime means of communication.
It is the split second warning of coming storm
And saves the stress of ennunciation.

For it is a common misunderstanding that
Of silence there exists only one type.
My soundless pauses I ensure are exact
And explain all my darkest feelings with light.

So that golden lack of movement
Becomes yellow, blue, red or white
As that dangerous closing of a sound vent
Explains my unuttered words with extreme might.

When I rest at night,
I begin to slip into sleep.
As my eyes close I see
A change in the light.

Immediately I am awake
And something is there.
I know this to be more
Than imagination or fake.

If I could make myself
Stir and reach out, I
Could touch you as you move.
But panic keeps me still.

Night after time I lie
In my sweaty insomnia
As long as you reside
I cannot close my eyes.

Sadly I leave you now.
Your days will certainly not
Notice my absence. Oh well.
C'ie la vie. Life, they say,
Goes on and on.

In the split second after
The initial slip, jump, bang.
I come out of time
And before I realise.

I feel the plot twisted
And went cartling of the track
If only we could go back
And put it the right way.

If I wish hard enough
I can undo the scream.
I come out of time
But then I realise.

After that initial
Slip
Jump
Bang.
I had a split second then
Missed
Screamt
Sang.

Turn on me, boy, turn on your heel.
I've made careful never to rely
Upon a loyalty I knew would keel
Over before the end; that would die
To save the skin of another.
It does not matter.

For such an instance I was prepared.
My ears wear deaf to warnings
Only because I had already squared
My cynicism and doubt to your callings
Of eternal help and love.
In this I did not trust.

This turning comes as no surprise.
It was the ending I foretold.
Notice the dryness in my cold eyes.
When I hear that honesty was sold
For a price any could pay.
I did not need it anyway.

Turn on me, boy, and turn away.
My plans included this event.
We find it is you who has most to say.
I refuse to listen to the words and yet
In your voice I hear something more,
That I cannot ignore.

I don't always think along one line.
I jump and I waver, switching between
One train of thought and another.
Hopping platform without hesitation.

I don't always think continously.
It comes in lines and dots of varying lengths;
Morse code. Even the order of my thoughts
Follows a pattern unknown to me.

I don't always think along the main road.
The side alleyways interest me;
It's worth taking a peek to see
What I might find along some other route.

I don't always think in straight lines.
They curve and twist, running around
Others' ideas, like a snake, suffocating
The sense from their thoughts.

I don't always think.
I don't always think at all.

I am, with plastic pellets and wooden bullets,
Removing my murder contact lense
In favour of one set to stun.
With the intention to make an impression
And invariably, unavoidably to harm
I begin my challenge.
For that I should shoot and not kill?
Such an order is strange to me still.

And did I move from that moment?

I stayed silent and I waited
In my chest my breath was bated.
Time stopped with the beat of my heart
And no shock could make it start.
The world was still and neglected
But it couldn't have affected me
Anyway.

No-one spoke. No birds sung.
No leaf moved. No bells rung.
The seconds I no longer bother to count.
I worry I have forgotten how to breathe out.

Despite the years of loss
Any eventual joy at the cost
Of desperation, anger, strife
Until we understood the boy who cried
Wolf not for his own amusement
But for the long-lost human comfort.
Still we settle and come to rest
In a place that smells of success
Ignoring the gaping, yearning hole
That reminds us
This is far from the place we once called home.

An inch of air
Separates my shuddering knees
From the smooth line of the table.
A rocking chair,
Made so by my physical unease,
Struggles and fails to keep me stable.
A single hair
Continually makes a bid for realease;
To keep it placed I find myself unable.
An attempted repair
Speaks just above the rustle of the trees
As I finally begin to recount my fable.