And when you want free
you have to lose everything:
everything you had;
everything that made you super-dad.
And they’ll never understand.
And it will never be the same.
And the sad shall follow you round wherever you go.
And nothing shall serve to tether us together.
And that is the plain and simple.
And that is the wretched dimple:
the scar and imperfection;
the bloody suppurations.
Yet whilst all that never passes quite,
and all that shite
will never sit right,
there ain’t no other to moving on:
at least there ain’t for me.
For whilst this year has taught me much,
her leaving me lurching
has meant my lessons so goddamn primary
have been timed with such a dark:
and so the sarcasm of wasting opportunity
as customary rhyme.
And whilst in “Parker Street” we find a hero,
the zero I have someways been
matches little your ideal of me:
if only I’d been half as good as yous once thought – as
maybe (who knows!)
once indeed I was – yous would not now
have gone and
caught me out like this.
* For my two sons and daughter.
** The video you can see below is me dabbling in new apps and technologies, as is my primitive wont.
Hyperlapse, Slice, a simple 16GB iPhone 5S, and a bit of gentle ingenuity on my part …
Meanwhile, the man who smiles at the end is really smiling.
(So may the continuous and persistent pain of creation maintain the insanity of unceasing innovation. For we are ultimately little more than servants to our ideas; rarely, ever so rarely, the happiest of pleasure-seekers. Yet even as this is clearly my case, I will carry on striving to make thrive the thing that characterises my life, and hopefully – one day – its future times as [s]well.)