Posts Tagged ‘socialising’

Normal conversation is a main course,
One that rarely tantalises me,
And rarer still is it served with skill,
I find it an unappealing slop,
An insipid entrée,
The texture of the words grows unpalatable,
Rough and unforgiving,
Undercooked and shallow,

These dull strings of words,
They are not the juicy flesh of wagyu beef,
Nor the silky glide of spaghetti bolognese,
Not even the warming quaff of soup,
They do not entice,
Or enkindle,
Nor entertain,
I am not sated by that drivel,

Increasingly so,
The texture of normality is grist to me,
Absent of taste,
Mediocre chat bound for the toilet bowl,
But then again,
It has to be stated,
Perhaps it is my taste,
Such as it is.

We often put on temporary faces,
Papier-mâché masks just for the day,
Social engagement or spree of revelry,
It’s a game we play,
To fit in to the fold,

A little blush here,
A touch of mascara there,
Cologne and collared shirt and corset,
Making ourselves into little dolls,
GI Joe’s and Barbies,

It doesn’t last long,
A mask can’t be worn forever,
Our real face grows impatient,
We banish our disguise after the gala,
With the swish of a wet wipe.

Everyone wears a mask,
Crude facsimiles of paper and card,
The world is a ball after all,
A party with cheap cologne and lipstick,
Aost pass through without trying the hors d’oeuvres,

These veils,
Most wear them to shield themselves,
To fit in and mollify our insecurities,
But some wear them to hide their intentions,
Desires foul and machinations fouler,

I knew of one such disguised creature,
Innocent without,
And abominable within,
When she smiled,
A slew of adders followed suit,

Brunette locks and empty eyes,
A pure appearance with horns,
Fead animals left on doorsteps,
The mask barely grips on,
As if it regrets compliance.

Life rarely gives us presents,
Or gift baskets,
Not without due cost,
It prefers to take and chastise,
Providing only buckets of sand,
The world is a cruel enough place,
Let’s not make it worse,
Let’s lighten the weight instead,

So leave a hamper of happiness yourself,
A little verbal picnic,
A kind word on a cracker,
A compliment sandwich with ham and lettuce,
It need not be lavish,
Compassion need not be gaudy champagne,
To any soul you come across,
A pleasant hamper may be everything.

Oh yes,
There is joy in the air,
Visible to the eye,
Heralded in myriad colours,
A thousand little specks of paper,
Fragments of a rainbow given flight,
A host of manmade fairies,
Dancing and raving on the breeze,
I do declare,
Whatsoever the occasion,
Nuptials or Pride or a festival,
You know it is a merry time,
A time for genuine smiles,
When the confetti flies.

I’m not one to brag,
Nor chastise,
But I was right,
Right about what they were,
Their serpentine sneers,
Their mockeries whispered,
I was correct about what they did,
Their aggression,
The strikes they denied,
I was right,
Though this brings me no solace,

Of whom do I speak?
Of her,
Of him,
Of those people,
Whomever intended harm,
I was right.

The night cometh,
Meeting right on time,
Eyes meeting,
Sweaty palms,
The anxious shuffling of seating,
Shy smiles,
Fingers tracing wine glass necks,
Azure to emerald eye contact,
Connections made,
Conversation once stilted now flowing like ale,
Hands touching,
Hackney carriage summoned,
Two passengers,
Happily ever after,
This was a date,
Now it’s a love story.

We don’t go out looking for affection,
Indeed it is a rare treasure to uncover,
A blood diamond in the rough,
But inevitably it is out there,
As certainly as there are strangers,

Eyes meet,
Across this bar or that street,
As surely as sun meets horizon,
Scenarios played out in every mind,
Stories unspoken and hands untouched,

We’re all strangers at first,
But locked eyes can change everything,
From unknowns to friends,
Maybe enemies,
Perhaps even to lovers.

Tell me,
Do people change?
Or does your memory betray you?
Are these machinations in your head false?
Ruby-tinted glasses in hindsight?

You recall them with fondness,
Sagacious in the extreme,
Beautiful and everything sweet under the sun,
Almost folkloric in their virtues,

But then witness them in the present,
Drugs and drink and crime,
Ugliness in their actions,
Selfishness to the core,
As if the past was a disguise,

It’s curious to remember people as they were,
Rather than the forms they take presently,
Are they mirages in the mind?
Or do people change?
Tell me.

We’ve all been stabbed in the back,
Either by our own mind or by another,
Either by past or personage,
The heat is the same,

It changes you,
Mutates you,
It turns your blood to acid,
In turn calcifying you to the outside,

It will influence you before you know it,
As if a dark spirit was bestowed on you,
Inevitably it leads you to pay it forward,
Malice is an universal human trait after all,

My friends,
I sympathize of course,
Betrayal is a hell of a narcotic,
And spite is the chaser.