Writing Flatly in London: 2/6/17




A month done finish, how I’ll never know

Blink and done, so quick

I’m watching the world around me descend into chaos

Some crazy green man at the helm, talking about walls like he name Donald Bricklayer

Watching him smile and entertain people who didn’t vote for him

Watching on a television, far away from home

Watching on a television, far away from my home-away-from-home


Always sprying, drizzling, raining

One week of sun and me drop sick, Mother Nature the biggest comedian

Coughing and feeling weak that week, fighting an enemy only my central nervous system can see

Lying in bed, remembering one night, Friday gone

Sharp-dressed, fitted suit and a hat, looking like I step out of some ’50s jazz club

Sipping on cider, walking through a garden in the sky ‘round Fenchurch Street

Music blasting, thinking of how good it would be to spin tracks there for the rich and the wealthy

Boy better know I could do it, do it better than whoever was behind the decks that night

Look at me, dreaming wide awake


Another cough bringing me back to thoughts I didn’t miss

Laying in that bed, thinking bout some gal far away

Some gal, can’t hurt my head about some gal anymore

Some gal who said she cared, snapped two finger’ then decided “Forget that”

And yet, I should have known better anyhow

Should have known it wouldn’t last, not seriously

Too many signs, can’t force a ting’ to work that clearly ain’ ga’ work

So much time invested, had me thinking like Dylan Mills:

“Slow down back off the love thing man

You don’t wanna be left hurtin’ man

Cut the sweet talk it ain’t workin’ man…”


Sitting up again, fighting ahead, fighting off the flu, fighting off thoughts

Resetting the clock to create a new circadian rhythm

Heard about some idiots on some bus on a Saturday night

Drunk on some cocktail of alcohol and ignorance

“Build that wall,” best thing they could think of chanting

Some Three Stooges act, slapstick at the expense of the marginalized

Pandering to a fool who’s playing at Making America Great Again

Surely now, there will be outcry and uproar, but I wish I was shocked

Feeling detached and wishing I was there to do something, do anything

Write something, say something, be in solidarity with those affected by little boys who decided to play comedians

But what can I do but watch and shake my head, knowing

Knowing that many agree

Many who I know

So many


I look up, if only for a moment yet

If only to ponder, knowing I’ve already pondered too long and too hard

To ponder why people do what they do, say what they say

But I stop myself because I know

I know and remember, one little wise thing mummy and the old people dem’ like to say

“Young man, if you don’t laugh, young man if you don’t take time to smile, you will cry”

So I smile and laugh still, if only to cope with a world in peril

A world afraid of itself and unsure of what to do

Smile and laugh still, accepting the things I can’t change, so the Serenity Prayer starts

Take a breath, smile, laugh, accept


It is the only way, so I must continue to do it

Even now












3 thoughts on “Writing Flatly in London: 2/6/17

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