Written the night before I started my MRes Studies
"This tuck me seconds to write, but I thought about it last night. I think about it every night. why? Karl typed it into google, google gave him an answer. His head didn’t explode. His friends mocked him, but they loved him really. They need him. He was there from the start. They where there from the start. They said things they will later regret, but they ment it at the time. They where misinformed, joking, saying there opinion and / or trying to stay neutral. They did the best they could all of them, karl, his mum, the father. His heros he looked up to them all. They where his gods. They warned him about the devils, the crooked cops, the nazi nurses, the nazi men who pulled the trigger. I know I have seen there uniforms. In museums, the facts are there on the wall, in black an white. History is written by the victors, but they never really won. They killed, because they loved with passion, and hated with passion. There is no middle ground. There is no grey., im a nerd. A super nerd. Big bang made that cool again. Its sooooooo in this season. An tis’ the season to be jolly. We sang it in school. Maybe not that exact version. The copyrighted one. A basterdised version. Sang by kids who couldn’t really sing. They where terrible really. But we loved them every last one. An now one of them is a star. In that constilation I know. Rob taught me. We marvelled at the big dipper, orion, the plough. Some folk believe they burn brightly and predict there future. Its all clever, marketing. Papa was my hero. The explorer. The new world scares him. He ran back to the ship, with terror, with so much energy. With news. You’ve got to read between the lines really, don’t take it at face value. Its all clever linguistics and I probabily pronounce it wrong anyways. I have a regional accent, I get my tv guide from the sun. dad is a red . . . red white and blue. Symbolism and the psychology of colour. Im not acrededited but ive got a good grasp of the basics. The fundamentals. I read from the source, the seminal works. All of them. Hungry for knowledge like the catterpiller muncing his way through all the greens. I lost him, her. Was it a boy or a girl. I’d never eat one, not unless I was in your house. Its respectful that way. The idiot who travels the world. I couldn’t write some thing this profound in any other language. Except the language of love, art. The shit covered canvases are a joke. But you pay good money to see them. Because they where illiterate, they tell there story on the walls. Some idiot will probabily paint over them anyway. Newton was right you know, so was Einstein. A drop out, that quits, worked in a patent office. What would the neighbours think. He probabily stole that idea, and claimed it for his own. That would make a good cartoon. Just make sure its aired in the right countires and everyone pays the right price. Get em’ while there hot, unless you like them cold. All my favourite comedians are super intelligent. So confident and self assured. Tears of a clown my ass. They are laughin all the way to bank they trust most. Unless it’s a charity gig. Even then you can joke about drugs. The good ones not the bad ones, the ones that take away the pain in the long term. Ease your suffering, while you work out the best decision. Unless your time is up. Death will be beautiful. Id love to go to my own funeral. Probabily my fault I died. I was too old, fat, tuck the wrong advise. To be resirected. Now that would be glorious. No funeral for me. Id know what all the critics said. Haters will hate. Don’t hate the player hate the fame, game, blaim. My last words will be my best, unless im drugged. My loved ones wont understand . . . not yet. They will eventually. In there own time. Watching the clock, not watching the clock. Its all relative really. Actors are ten a penny. Not all of them get it. That’s why they do it part time. They arnt motivated by the trappings. Someone could always move the goal posts at the last minute anyways. Id rather be the goal post. On the side lines, with my pad, my pen. I could claim the header last minute. If the ref aint lookin’. I joke obviously. I don’t do contact sports. Not since the acciedent. It wasn’t anyones fault, really we where just kids. We died way to young, the odds where always in our favour. Sometimes characters get killed off premiturly. We cheer if they where evil. We cry if we knew them. Your not alone though. The whole team is there and we are all in this together. I’ve never formatted anything this bad before and made it public. Disappointed by the ending. Me too. But one day this will all be yours.
What am I supposed to be doing? What happened to my plan?
I have lost all sense of direction, I no longer feel like a man.
Everybody else is getting on with things, living the lives they choose,
I’m stuck in a rut, not moving anywhere, constantly thinking about my blues.
It was fine when I was a boy, indifferent in my room, playing with my toys,
It’s wrong now I’m older, but professionals are telling me to find activities, that stimulate joy.
I want to be independent, stand on my own two feet, not lie here distraught,
It feels like I will always need support even though I’m grown and I ought,
Not to rely on others, to smile and just be happy,
I’m craving for my bottle and a hug, now all I need is a nappy.
I’ve traded my rattle for a pen, to express myself, it is my only release,
As I scrawl, I get everything out, finding my inner peace.
An audio recording reciting my Crazy Joker Nerd Flowin' Poem. Its not perfect as I stutter, but I’m putting it out there as it is, to de-clutter the thoughts of this nutter.
If you want to make a point, you should put it in a poem,
delivering messages to your mind, warping you brain without you knowing.
I opened up this journal, to scribble down cRAP,
but I’ve already written in it, as I scrawl on every paper scrap.
I said as a baby, yeah that’s right I could talk,
“when I’m older I’ll go to prison, or be crazy”, then I learned to walk.
Even as a kid, I loved to make them laugh,
totting around on all four limbs, I thought I was a giraffe.
I was always the one laughing, even if manically,
baldy head both now and then, a one way ticket to insanity.
Being a geek in my school, I needed melons just to do it,
but bullies never stood up to me, they were busy playing truant?
Always fighting for attention, but I never got detention,
aced every test, but my brain lacked retention.
One teacher marked a poem I wrote, with a red pen,
“A+, well done Chris, I hope you didn’t copy it, I’ll catch you if you pull that shit again!”
I never missed a class, even when I had a cold,
never slowing down, just speeding up, it’s killing, me now I’m getting old.
I’m not one to complain, or stick a needles in my veins,
hacking any weakness into strengths, when I reformat my brains.
It’s an unfair battle, as I was a nerd from birth,
so you will never win, I grew up reading books on pulling girls to pass on my brainy genes, and repopulate the earth.
When this rhyme is through, you’ll think you know who I am,
am I serious, am I joking? . . . I’m both and a don’t give a damn.
When I have a Son, I’m going to name him Ted,
push him down the stairs to brake his bones, then drop him on his head,
spike his food with psychedelics, mash up the fuckers brain,
I’ve made it work for me, winning all the games insane.
Student of life the universe, and everything in existence,
sifting through information, and meshing it with my opinions,
spitting out my knowledge, to anyone who will listen,
when I’ve got the facts, redundant are the opinions of my minions.
If you lack self-regulation, your thoughts poor out to a nation,
the more success you earn, you’re bound to get some haters,
Steven Fry removes his social media, when times got tough,
he’s a pro, a champion, he knows when it’s time to recharge the batteries, and strap on his fighter gloves.
Every word I say and post I make, I deliver another joke,
I love you because you get me . . . . . if you feel me give me a poke.