ADDENDUM TO 'SIGNS' (poem)

This poem is an addendum to the poem 'Signs' which I wrote in 2008 or 09...At the time I liked the 'Signs' piece, I still do, but it's amazing how much your outlook can change in such a short space of time.  I don't perform 'Signs' anymore as I feel I was too lost in doom-mongering at the time, and what's more it was a piece that tended to be particularly affective on audiences...and basically, given the times we live in, I don't want anything I do to strengthen the sense of hopelessness that alot of us are feeling at this time...This won't help us. My mind was drawn back to when I was a kid and the countless times we were in dire straits as a family, I'm sure there were times when it seemed like there was no way out, but we're all still here and relatively healthy.  I remembered loans of a quid here and a quid there, I remembered living Tuesday to Tuesday (Family Allowance day- best day of the week! :O) ), I remembered people helping each other out.  Not to say it was a Walton-like existence, far from it, but everyone knew each other and even though our community resembled something out of 'Shameless', at least there was some semblance of a community.  Now I live on one of those generic, American-style housing estates where, even after nearly 5yrs, I still don't know any of my neighbours, and they don't appear to know each other.  We all believe we're in different boats, but if the shit hit the fan tomorrow I hope we can remember what 'community' means, what it felt like, and how it could be.

ADDENDUM TO ‘SIGNS’

They say this is it,

They say we’re fucked

It’s over, our luck ran out years ago

We just never noticed.

They say there’ll be a pole-shift, a tsunami

A stock market crash

And so we’ll either ascend, fall or set back,

This

Is a transition,

An opportunity for every human soul to grow;

So many theories, so many intelligent people,

So many heads rule

And so many hearts blow a fuse,

So many wise men and women in asylums,

So many diamonds,

Watching the news

They say it’s the global revolution,

It’s the 2^nd coming,

It’s Jesus arriving and being missed,

It’s watching the mists on the horizon

On the look-out for Hitler or someone just like him,

It’s the whispering behind backs,

The plastic smiles on faces

And the friends only in it for what they can get,

It’s the knowing, the seeing and the pushing it to the back of your head

That’s the waste,

Yeah

It’s one breath slowing,

Another breath going,

It’s watching a loved one slip away and finally understanding

The nature of river that can never burst it’s banks;

The only water that’ll ever quench your thirst,

It’s thinking about

Then bringing about

Thinking about bringing about, thinking about bringing about

That is power!

And thought is a Sculptor

And matter is the sculpture

And thoughts can be chosen, like garments

And discarded as rags if they’re rubbish

Though The Choice is the hardest lesson to master.

But

I believe in tribulatory times people can come alive

And shine

In a way that no-one gave a fuck about in the good times,

I hope, now they say we’re in the twilight,

Most of us’ll jump on our chance to be The Light.

And I

Am one of those types

Who sometimes can’t see the blue skies for the chemtrails,

I can be rude, un-couth and ragged round the edges

But hurting any one of you was never my intention.

I’m done begging for forgiveness though.

Some of you just needed to be told where to go, like me,

So in some instances I’ll never be sorry.

But understand this:

If they are right,

If we’re in the shit,

There isn’t one of you I wouldn’t piss on

If you were burning,

There isn’t one of you I wouldn’t feed if you were starving,

There isn’t one wound I wouldn’t dress

I promise

From the bottom of my heart, 

Which

Beats out the rhythm for the brain

Which

Beats out the constructions of the physical world

Which

Beats out the rhythm of the entire universe;

No thought ever came to no-thing.

There is something in everything we feel and think.

Everything is only a vibration

Upon which

Entire nations are scribbled, indulged and toppled

Back into the ocean;

Great men and women made of the same malleable substance as angels and planetary bodies and

Meek men and women made out of the same malleable substance as angels and planetary bodies;

Lest we forget this

When our Choice is upon us,

When our hearts are like concrete,

When our heroes teach us only how to worship on our knees

And seek the inheritance of the Earth

When we could have inherited the whole damn Universe!

Let not our mouths do all the communicating,

Let them only put the icing on the cake,

Until we know we’re not making love

Just expressing it,

Like milk from the breast.

And we’ll do the best we can from there…

© Abby Oliveira 2011