Ideology

you believe      what you want to believe     but there’s no give          in tablets of stone                and no thought   that fills your stomach             there is no dumb             eternal essence            no spiritual spark             that electrifies          the synaptic gap           we speak ourselves          into being        and our language                 articulates ideology         we are the vassals                  of whatever ideology  we call common sense         there are prohibitions              that control your actions                  and procedures       to improve         your ideology           I have no beliefs to lay claim to      and no faction lays claim to me           I’m not alone                there are millions like me   free of the chains             of ideology

.

Dead Man

I write like a dead man
with knotted fingers
and a feeble grasp
I cast no reflection
into the pool of life
here on the outside
the far outside
there are no windows
waiting
no welcome in the hearth
and there are no songs
for dead men
to wrap their tongues around
.

Pinocchio

“no-one fucks like that”  she said  “unless they mean it”

I had given it full expression    and I had meant it    in the heat of the moment    with the fire in my loins    but   hers was not my circus    I treasured my freedom    and would not relinquish it   just because we were good in bed

“what’s wrong?”    “don’t you fancy me?”   her eyes searched mine      I averted  shamefaced   my silence was evidence    of my guilt    I didn’t know what to say    the feeling just wasn’t there    well   that was my story   and I stuck to it

that was the story I told    and told over again    until I forgot it was a lie    it was a story of innocence    it was far from the truth    I have two glass eyes     and a silver tongue     I can lie with the best    and often do   but most of the time   I only deceive myself     with my selfish acts of betrayal