TOM BISSELL
AT REST NOW!
Searching.
All over, around.
This need supersedes all believed and made data.
If the hat fits I will put it on later.
So proud.
However.
The now, here.
This collection of maps has been stopped in its tracks.
The shortest, as ever, will be as the crow flaps.
Voice is made vocal with sound.
Tides.
Swimming against though without.
So clear just how dear to live through this veneer.
When alone in the dark, sometimes partial to fear.
Scattered, it grows all around.
Benign.
Harmless stupidity. Deluded.
A chance to romance and then dance with delight.
An image presented still burns in the night.
The struggles to which we are bound.
At rest now, its very own shroud.
HUMAN PRO'S
And so here I stand,
Mountains fell under my foot,
Rock resembled sand.
And so there I stood,
Water fell to cloud my view,
Useless was my hood.
And so there I’ll go,
Fate will provide direction,
With wind I will blow.
And so there I went,
Turned up here and sometimes there.
Well my time was spent.
ARMS ENVELOPING
Through the unseen valleys,
Deep below the ground,
Over mountain ranges,
Where echo carries sound,
Purple coloured sunsets,
So pleasing to the eye,
Meteor showers late at night,
The simple dream to fly.
Through our shopping centres,
Deep into our towns,
Amongst our population,
Our common man and crown,
Manmade misdirection,
So leading to the eye,
Like two for one on empty shelves,
We each have our own why.
Under-evolved substance misuse to drag us through the day,
To weight our dreams and tie us down, to throw this gift away.
Awoken from our slumbers, to seek the inner crowd,
Beholders of beauty merge into one, stand gawking open mouthed.
Denying all advances, the stage left of a clown, to absolute destruction, the Mona Lisa frowns, most are under pressure, are moved to one green beat, though few are by the fire, still less control the heat, they plot this misdirection, give meaning to our sigh, they rise and fall stock markets, alas if some must die, they destroy this given, they waste so many lives, they ignore all calls for help, they decide the sides, they misuse progression, this price tag on my cry, they are all our tissue, no use for alibi.
They deny this precious, They show us what we see, They play these games and fuck around, They are both you and me.
They are so very busy, They each have their own why, They are wasted by this way, They are both you and I.
THE RAT LEARNS TO WALK, TO CRAWL
The realisation of urbanisation,
Jack and Jill franchise their hill,
A squeaky clean image the gutter won't find,
Just a general in love with the kill.
Water flows only as current determines,
A shepherd alone in a field,
If only the sheep could have chosen their path,
As a raindrop allowed to believe.
Litigation postponing the actualisation,
Everyone's here to get rich,
Where can we look for worthwhile inspiration?
The scratch must resist its own itch.
Society throws its next fashionable gathering,
Salvation arrives dressed in green,
But everyone's there for their own fucking reasons,
Surely you see what I mean.
Repent then repeat, repeat then repent,
Look to your neighbour no more,
Look at yourself and the life you are leading,
Why learn to walk, just to crawl.
QUITE QUICK CUTS
My world belongs to me alone. One vision.
Where I go, I follow.
No 'mindful of's,' no thoughts of another,
Listen to all the proud cheers.
Each one is hollow.
The meaning, as ever, is lost on alone. My decision.
I chew but will not swallow.
Blame lies hard and it cuts deep inside.
Happy? Speechless in ignorance equal to mine.
In pity I wallow.
Denial is a formidable engine. Be ignition.
Hope is reserved for tomorrow.
In respect of my bed I cannot lie.
Happy? Sadness engulfs all my shores.
I drown in my sorrow.
THIS
Hello and welcome. This is my world.
Everything your hear, see, feel and touch,
Everything you learn, when below and above,
All here is right down to me.
Now read please of what I’d have see.
Hello and welcome. This is my world.
Please follow on, they have only just gone, you’ll catch up.
However, don’t hinder. I’ll send you back up.
Remember ‘tis I keeps you under.
Without me you’d not last much longer.
Don’t slow down. This is my world.
I won’t be held back or denied like a fool.
I am the teacher, right here is my school.
I’m so lost in the trail of my wake.
Wont you take what you feel need to take?
Pay more attention. This is my world.
Make out the shapes and the changes of colour.
Ignore all the cameras for I am big brother.
Now what’s all this you didn’t know?
Where else was this going to go?
Look over there. This is my world.
There are strings in the sky and they seem to be moving.
And here comes a theme tune, now isn’t that soothing?
Misdi..missed that, now what did you say?
Oh of course I’m not going away.
Stop this now. This is our world.
Open your eyes and see what you are doing.
So many lives just like yours you are screwing.
Why not start using your head?
Get up, and help them instead!
Sorry about that. This is my world.
That was my conscience, he’s setting a trap.
But please rest assured all, he will not be back.
Just relax now, no more can he speak.
There’s a tap root that’s just sprung a leak.
Who said that? Where is this world?
That’s crazy. You just don’t get back what you give.
From them? Have a look at how they choose to live.
Far too much has met misbehaviour.
Now can somebody go find the saviour?
All shut up! This is my world.
Now, how many people are speaking in here?
I see. There we go then. It’s just as I fear.
All just big kids enjoying big games.
This is my world in great pain.
QUENCHING MY OWN THIRST
So the time is back upon us again,
All these lies, forced smiles, denials and deceit.
Battered and bruised then confused by the hurt,
Poor old tolerance looks down at its limit.
Given the answer to mortgages question,
There is only one way which salvation is found.
Class is employed, those who can’t pay its wage,
And the earth now revolves round the pound.
Valuing yours by the profit of theirs,
Training the masses to forget how to think.
The hungry are thirsty, the thirsty are dead,
And still I just sit here and drink.
DIE (Dedicated to Dr Luke Rhinehart)
I throw it down with all my fate contained within,
Though every avenue was once open, now all but six are long gone,
I wince at the motions, ensnared by the spin,
And as I sit there watching, time slows down, the die reveals a one.
The feeling is often euphoric, with the pressure of choice taken out of my hand,
I just smile and then pray to the God of fortune, nothing else is there for me to do,
Awaiting the pressure of doing, I am free, ‘till I see, how the die has decided to land,
And as I sit there watching, time slows down, the die reveals a two.
I choose my options slowly, trying not to rush, making good use of my time.
No point is there yet in the closing of eyes, for this task it is paramount I can see,
For whatever it is that I must end up doing, the choice, back at some point, was mine,
And as I sit there watching, time slows down, the die reveals a three.
Excitement courses through my veins, runs wild inside and beneath my skin,
Recall I cannot now, quite how this began, but I’d say I am 6-1 sure,
That in handing my will to the turn of the die, I’ve discovered I have a new limb,
And as I sit there watching, time slows down, the die reveals a four.
I must not be absolved from all I was told must be done,
So I cling to this game as it helps to remind that indeed I am truly alive,
I just do well my bidden, which will not be to hide, and will not be to run,
And as I sit there watching, time slows down, the die reveals a five.
Yet eventually it is here that I am, now so close to the rock, over there, the hard place,
I must now face the fact that I’ll soon need my next rolling fix,
The fun is long gone and the signs of concern rape my face,
And as I sit there watching, time slows down, the die reveals a six.
SHORT-SIGHTED SPACE
The conquest of a place, still known as deep space,
Has changed the perspective of our race.
For who would now call as impossible, that which is merely improbable,
When placed in a category called profitable?
Who would deny any dream, as unrealistic as at first it may seem,
If it fits in which a political scheme?
Who out there can still look around, with political machines churning out sound,
And claim of this race they are proud?
Thinkers get paid now to theorise, so that workers are paid now to realise,
For companies to try and monopolise.
The Earth is a grand shopping centre, whose doors we automatically enter,
Shortly after disconnection from the placenta.
Yet as lost as our race has become, it is nothing to what we will have done,
If we allow these mistakes to carry on.
So get up and be quick, make some haste, no more of this death and this waste,
Let us once more make habitable our space.
VERY VERSATILE BARGAIN HUNTERS
An ode for you:
There’s money off on fast filled shelves, the choice is yours alone,
The check out queues amuse themselves, the dog has found his bone.
Tills go beep at low, low prices, pre-emptive was the rise,
Trolleys wage war along the aisles, the consumers wallet sighs.
Last years posters adorn the store with ‘Offer Must End Soon’,
The Summer sale begins in March, and peters out by June.
Sale, sale, sale, cheap, cheap, cheap, accept all major cards,
On orders over sixty pounds, delivery is free of charge.
They congregate here every week, swapping money for the goods of their choice,
Then backs they slap as they wander home, watch the shoppers, see how they rejoice.
THE BOWING OF THE BODY
Penned in and trapped like a fox in a hole,
As invisible forces close in all around me.
I entered complete though no more am I whole,
Must hang on, might succumb,
May just shatter completely.
Yet deep down inside I’ve reserves of my will,
And when harnessed and focused I can stay the same.
I might be the hunter, not always the kill,
Even so, I let go,
And do what is required by this game.
I shall call my own terms, try so hard to abide,
Yet again it depends on if they’ll let me be.
My will wastes away as I flow with the tide,
So I smile, for a while,
Then continue through life on my knees.
From that broken shell came this very new version,
Sculpted and altered, so hard was the task to remain.
The sculptor’s knife cut as he made his insertion,
So I changed, as arranged,
And yet all I recall was the pain.
THE SIDES OF THE CIRCLE
The edges don’t meet in the corner,
The ends are usurped by the means,
All forms must be dated and signed triple fold,
Personal touch is replaced by routines.
You must keep your feet on the grass,
The moon is controlled by the tides,
Decisions are made now by people untouched,
The church favours mail order brides.
The sun has been trapped in the West,
First class has become second post,
Healthcare is free but it comes at a price,
The least now exist with the most.
The bread isn’t sold by the baker,
Their God is ignoring our prayers,
Winners are finishing last, if they can,
And circles now function as squares.
SALE TIME
The spectacle begins with one hundred tethered balloons being released into the air.
As a nice bonus, they’ve also slashed a little something in the hope that this will help to get you there.
Necks crane in unison as the show starts in earnest, the balloons now passing overhead.
Like a great Shakespearean play, a lot has been written, but that much more has been said.
The echo from the last strike of the recently passed hour begins to die down and it truly begins.
Hell resurfaces, the demons now bargain hunters, going around with loaded wallets and savage grins.
Store managers scuttle around incessantly, each one dressed as an oversized grey wood lice.
The thrill of the hunt has been temporarily forgotten, have you heard of the thrill of the price?
The queues are now static, politeness entombed, the assistants can do nothing right.
But nobody cares, for when sale time’s in town, they’ve all camped outside over night.
Parking is useless, there just is not a space, they don’t care for your ‘Orange Badge Holder’.
Children are screaming, they want the best toy, it’s an easily breakable soldier.
The crowd takes on it’s own mindset, maybe a bump here, some shopping knocked over there.
It’s now two minutes past the hour it started, and you’ve already pulled out your hair.
This could go on, and describe in great detail, the act of the sapiens when they go out to shop.
But then who knows what bargains I’ll miss as I’m writing, I’m sorry folks, this is your lot.
TWENTY/TWENTY
I awoke from my sleep and carried on dreaming,
An angel appeared and I gave up my soul.
Your beauty shines through and it gives my life meaning,
You are my parts, my sum and my whole.
Your love has enslaved me, I give you control.
Life contains wonders, amazement and grace,
There are things which will always be true,
Creation, has given, a vision to guide us,
My perfect vision is you.
The feeling I get waking up by your side,
Cannot be spoken or captured and written.
When you are near beauty won't be denied,
A world now a pleasure to live in.
I thank you for all that you don't know you've given.
A summertime spectacle, an open air show,
A sunsets design's to tame the sky blue.
Creation, has given, a vision to guide us,
My perfect vision is you.
The sun would still rise, were you to leave,
The world would still turn and life would go on.
A difference this time, because this pain is mine,
Without you, my reason has gone..
Nothing else matters. You are the one.
Without intervention, the stars always shine,
The tides are controlled by the moon.
Creation, has given, a vision to guide us,
My perfect vision is you.
To know of existence, appreciate life,
Is to witness a miracle set to.
Creation, has given, a vision to guide us,
But I don't see a thing. I'm looking at you.
BEE-KEEPING
And so it goes on
said the bee to the keeper
As all of the days things got done,
Time does not stop
though we may wish it
It sticks to it's ticking inside everyone.
From life form to life form
species to species
We each have own finity,
Some think it easier
some think it harder
to know all of this and remain as a bee.
The keeper he listened
to all that was said
beginning to get an impression,
Then the secret he said
for the two of us both
is to let life teach us it's own lesson.
The bee gave a smile
though as only bee's can
the keeper he noticed not a thing,
No the secret, bee buzzed,
With a glint in his eye,
Is beware of the bee with no sting!