8th December 2012: What would people like to co-create with me today: All suggestions welcome. All will be used. Phrases, concepts, single words... anything you like. And a massive thank you to everyone - I have never been so creative in my life. And I am so grateful to be in this process with you....
Just put your suggestions underneath in the comments section and I will do the rest! (once I've gone to bed and had some sleep!) xxx
And please invite your friends to join the page!
   
This journey is a myriad of options we can take:
Of the paths that we can walk; the decisions we can make.
And when we know the path we wish to walk, we walk with purpose
And as often as we can we try to navigate this circus.
But when we carry hurt and resentments from the past,
We can move as fast as lightning but, still, we come in last.
It seems that everyone we know’s more fortunate than us:
They drive a fancy car to work. We have to take the bus.
They get given everything. We have to fight for ours.
We can only reach the ceiling. They can reach the stars.
And often we are friends with these abundant, lucky things,
And we hope that, in their presence, we may, one day, too, have wings.
And they should help us. Shouldn’t they! They ought to give their time.
And if they don’t, that’s selfishness. We’ll, actually, it’s crime.
We don’t need them anyway. We’re better on our own.
And if they really miss us they can call us on the phone.
Thy can tell us that they’re sorry; that they want the friendship back.
“Sorry I forgot your birthday. Happy Birthday, Jack.”
“I don’t see enough of you, my dear, dear old friend.”
But if they do not make that phone call, we’re not going to bend.
And then we sit alone feeling lonely, feeling sad,
And wondering why rotten luck is all we’ve ever had.
When God comes down for justice we shall watch the mighty fall.
We’re not bothered if they die. God can kill them all.
He’s done this sort of thing before; Sodom and Gomorrah.
But, still, it would be better to prevent this kind of horror.
The paradigm is shifting. We can feel it in our brain;
People need to realise and get on board this train.
It sets off very soon, on December 21st.
We’d forgive those selfish bastards if they’d just say ‘sorry’ first.
Maybe we expect too much. Maybe we’re too pointed
Maybe that’s the reason we are always disappointed.
No fancy cars for us; we ride the Dear 81;
As far from comfortable as the Moon is from the Sun.
We cannot trust our friends to meet or expectations true;
It’s frivolous like dancing in the rain or sniffing glue.
So, here we are again, disappointed to the core,
Wondering if life will ever start to give us more.
Until that point, we’ll ride the bus, for free, because we can,
Like just another pension-grabbing boring old gay man.
12th December 2012 ©Simon Welsh Poetry
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