Posts Tagged ‘Individuality’

They expected worship,
Praying by the riverside was never enough,
Your exaltations not exuberant enough,
You had not bled enough,
Your knees not nearly scalded enough,
You are too free,
How dare you practice prayer unbridled?

They demand more,
Always more,
Those people from the spires,
Those who talk to clear skies,
They need you,
So an aquatic conversion must be performed,
Directed by a man in white,

The preacher forces your head down,
The river takes you,
A loving embrace,
Currents trying to warn you,
Drowning you before their holy water does,
But they take you from the river,
Into a set of invisible manacles,

This is an incarceration of a new kind,
The binding not of the wrists,
But of the soul,
How dare you practice prayer unbridled?
How dare you practice liberal heresy?
Freedom of spirit is a sin,
That man-made book says so,

The river could not save you,
Its waters muffled by echoing sermons,
Liberty drifts away.

To be normal is such a sad affair,
To attire oneself in grey boilers,
To toe the social line,
To be a drone,
Humdrum,

Uniqueness is a defect they claim,
We are expected to be numbers,
Cogs in a cold machine,
You must be this way,
Or else you are a mistake,

Normality is a guillotine,
A sharpened edge galvanised by off glances,
To live and die amongst a critical crowd,
Without your soul unleashing its colour and zeal,
Without your personal art being displayed to the world,

So I say dance without music,
Paint with your hands,
Think how you want to think,
Don’t lose that element of individuality,
Your mad grin.

I find myself bound,
Not by a jacket of canvas,
Nor by lock and key,
But by an assertion of vocal force,
A societal mandate of rules,
An invisible straitjacket of murky glass,
Weightless yet overbearing,

This garment bares a droll image,
The image of a good little citizen,
Projected upon my form without consent,
An alleged single form of living,
A sycophantic idealisation of conformity,
Enforced with strange looks and cupped hands,
Supposedly the only right way,

My elbows swell and circulation ceases,
Thrash as I do,
Trying in angst to be myself,
Itching and struggling,
We all wear this hellish restraint,
In this asylum of a sick world,
So tell me in truth,

Do you too rebel against yours?

There is only one way to travel,
To bring eyes on to the faces of the world,
And it is to take flight,
By the wing aloft,
By the gales breath,

Take off in your minds eye,
Be as the albatross,
An airborne paragon of freedom,
A cherub of flesh and feather,
Let naught bind you,

Voyage the malms and leagues,
Over the reefs and briny deeps,
The British Isles and the Rockies,
Over the pyramids of Egypt,
The steppes of Russia,

Be free as the albatross,
A globe of sights to see,
No more thrall to a terrestrial cage,
Simply declare to all who hear,
This birds strings are replaced with wings.

From this moldy pulpit,
I preach to you all,
We’re all inmates remember?
Of this world on the edge,
Of a social construction of normality,
Rickety and ill-maintained,

But I posit another way,
We take over this asylum of a world,
We as freaks are the future,
We’re an army of little weirdos,
Weapons of paintbrushes and lyrics,
Brothers and sisters in straitjackets,

We laugh loud and proud,
We listen to what we want,
We wear what finery we wish,
Anarchy in our identities and pronouns,
We may be eerily strange,
But we are more joyful than you can imagine,

We are our own culture,
The inmates,
Eccentricity is our standard and battle cry,
So let’s be the madness we embody,
Don your clown makeup,
Stand up and be yourself,

The world shan’t know what hit it,
And we’ll keep giggling.

Who needs society?
Who needs normalcy?
We are not sheep,
No woolen coats here,
We are greater sapients,

Let’s be misfits,

Wear clown makeup and bright shades,
Dance unrestrained in paint,
Sing your favourite song off-key,
Whichever madness makes your little soul breath,
Live for yourself,

Live as a misfit,

Give mundanity an aneurysm,
Make that cruel pulse flat,
Let it die off,
Our souls wish to be unconfined,
They wish to dance among stars and zephyrs,

Become a misfit.

I am not a jealous soul,
But I stare green-eyed at birds,
Those avian aviators,
Artists of the blue,
I envy them their wings,
I write you true,

Soaring the skies,
It must be such release,
Such catharsis,
They are not bound to one another,
Why do they stay in throngs?
Are they not individuals?

Do they not know they are free?
My envy screams up at them,
Predation should be no deterrent,
When the flock flies west,
Why not fly east?
Don’t waste those wings,

Coveting their feathery prom dresses,
I call out to them,
Please take me away,
Imitating their freedom,
I reach skyward,
Yet they flee in flocks.

I’ve seen the elite,
A cartel of tuxedo players,
Vultures around a board held aloft by we the people,
They play monopoly above us,
Playing for borders and lives,
Among red buttons and whiskey,

An oligarchy of a smoking room,
Perfume of toxic fumes,
Product of industry,
A effluvium of poor mens moans,
Sounds of pickaxes and canaries,
Walls of blood diamonds,

The pieces are made of flesh,
Shaped like batons and warmachines,
And cry for help as they shift,
Beholden to old men,
Liars in chief,
Tycoons of trepidation,

They have played this boardgame for centuries,
From pyramids to railways,
From aeroplanes to the moon,
We have been pawns for too long,
What happens if we all stand up?
And knock their game over.

I see the flag,
That old ensign,
But I do not serve it,
A flag is mere fabric,
A textile icon of the past,

Preach not to me,
Of patriotism and servitude,
Of loyalty and treason,
Of fealty and monarchs,
I shall not heed you,

I am not my birthplace,
I am not your history,
I am not your hate,
Your bigotry or your intolerance,
I am not the empire,

I’m a human,
Not a nation,
I’m not here to entertain you,
Not going to fight for you,
I march to only one drum and flag,

That of the human heart,
That of humanity.

I’m a misfit,
I’m socially awkward,
Do you know how I can tell?
It’s not the facepaint,
Nor the inability to smile normally,
It’s a certain intangible strain,

A subtle yet leaden weight,
Upon my soul,
A sense of monachopsis,
The burden of not belonging,
I’m in a person suit,
The public are not my tribe,

I lumber through hostile streets,
As if waistdeep through syrup,
Incomparably out of place,
A slovenly ghoul,
A shade of grey,
Passing through hued crowds,

I long to return home,
Domestic safety,
A raft away from the societal sharks,
I can be fluidly myself,
A rainbow within,
Dancing with my thoughts,

Please don’t make me go outside,
I don’t belong there.