Proceeding onwards

"arranged approach"
by Scaramouche, the Po(t)et, a continuation of my slightly angry input, of late, also in reference to former post, and the people mentioned there, and "in honour" of those (people) who never engage, but remain distant and always keep their cool. I don't. And it certainly gets me into trouble, now and again, especially at the Uni and for job interviews. But I couldn't mind less, really. I never tried becoming untouchable, afraid of becoming only shallow - just like I never managed being invulnerable; eventually ended up being ever the more frank, instead. Enthusiasm is a bliss; it's my spark of life, and I depend upon it. Be it as it may, that I cannot "do" objectivity, that it simply doesn't apply to my reasoning mind, and my subconscious seems to forbid any attempted change. So I settle for a subjective approach, again, being more earnest than I should, and admitting to it. Certainly not flawless. Certainly not forced. But completely in touch with own opinionated honesty. Now, fake THAT, you fuckers.

you meet
people
closed faces strict hair straight smiles
stiffened poses; prose; they're performing
block figures
never shifting, they mimic themselves
in the mirror, this morning, yesterday,
last week, same pressure; impression
no breach, peace. please. stranger,
let's talk, empty bottles, unfilled plates,
no losing, no completion, filling up
we meet
people
blank faces strong glare strange smiling
stuffed poses; praising; that's performance
brick features
never shocking, they murmur, mirror other selves,
in the generic sense, sensing; this minute,
every day, this weekend, same pleasure; implementing
no breaks, fakes. fuckers. strummer,
let's play, procedure, empty halls, unfilled squares,
lonely bedrooms, no loving, no forgiving,
no complying, noting complemented, filling in
once met
people

**
Not quite as anger-filled as one might sound, please note. Still, there is a sense of bitter reflection in all my thoughts, at the moment - and a yearning for proper honesty and candour, in life, that never seems to be fulfilled. Tolerance for an opened mind, if you will. For once, Paul Rodgers (or maybe it was somebody else) managed to put something sensible - about this - into writing, and write it well: "Anger burns in bitterness and fills me up inside. Without your love, there's nowhere I can hide." Need a bit of lovin', too, yeah. And I like "The Cosmos Rocks".