Jonesy, simply a human

I peer through the dark
Looking everywhere for that long lost spark
But all I can now see
Decaying old crone that once was she

The world moves on
I have no idea where my innocence has gone
When we used to hug
Was like getting fixed by the most potent drug

Why did the love vanish
All my emotion was suddenly hers to banish
Now feel so empty inside
Wish I had never found out that my mother lied

The screaming child
Cannot any longer be described as happy and wild
That part has but left
Of all emotion and warmth I now am totally bereft

Hope is no longer seen
Let them call me carrier of the fatalistic Judas gene
You see me as friend
But my loyalty I can promise is only ever on lend

Still blaming my past
Assuring you my mail and armour was built to last
No weakness on view
The creature named in revelations won my heart anew

She stands alone in this world of hate
She stare out beyond her now rusted gate
She remembers when the world seemed good
She now is existing in chaos and their blood

She remembers her lost husband and son
She remembers a happy life ruined by bomb and gun
She only has one path now left for her to strive
She has so little time if she is to remain alive

Having a camera inserted in your bum
I can confirm really is in no way any fun
But the day before sitting upon the throne
Means there’s little chance of leaving home

You mix the sachets in a glass litre jug
After an hour your face looks like a pug
Even andrex feels like its just course sand
Every time you wipe you’re cursing yer hand

They dope you up and wheel you in the room
A little tube yet it feels its a handle of a broom
That evil look on the face of your expert surgeon
After the drugs all the memories now are merging

Three weeks you wait just to get the information
Will you be told its just a bit of an inflammation
Its is the waiting that for me is absolutely the worse
So please accept my apology if i currently seem terse

Imagine…..
Imagine how many particles of dust are in your room. Any room. I am lay on my bed in a room that’s about 18ft x 16ft.
Imagine that those dust particles did not settle upon your dresser, window ledges or floor but slowly spiraled around your room. Spiral upon spiral outwards.
Imagine if each particle was a sun. Each sun had a number of smaller particles circling it. Then you sort of get some idea of the immensity of our universe.
Imagine now one in a million of those particles circling the suns sustained life of some sort. How many would that be?
Imagine then firstly the question are we alone?
Imagine then how important are you? Am I? Any answer?
Well its possibly wrong. You likely are totally unique, you therefore are important. You are not just a particle of a particle on a particle. You are you. No one else can be you. No one else will ever be you.
The chances are you matter to more folk than you think. You may believe yourself to be a passing thought in the lives of others. You are wrong. You mean something to so many. The fact your reading this means you matter to me.
I may not know your name, we may never meet but we have now connected. That can never be changed. Your reading these words are now a fixed point in time. In existence. You matter. You matter to me. To your family. To your friends. And now to the cosmos.
If the universe was to end right now you connected, read and digested this. That may be forgotten but never changed.
Confused? Why?
You are reading a post called imagine. Use your imagination. By doing that you will get there. You will answer your questions. Not with my answers but those of your own invention.
Those answers will be your right answers.
Still confused? Well if you got to here you are thinking. If your thinking then you have achieved more than most.
Is this just twaddle? I don’t think so, do you? And why?
Thank you for reading, for connecting and for imagining.
Jonesy.

Limbo is not for me but some state of mind
It is truly a realm in which one you shall find
Treading water as the pain washes like a tide
As it ebbs out exhaustion ensures I now hide

Looking forward to when this is but memory
A battle to be won or a continuation of agony
There are islands of sanctuary but they are rare
Once over this turmoil how will I then truly fare

I want to believe this will no longer define me
But can no more plan or have a future I can see
When not affected its hard to remember I am ill
Of this chronic illness I have had beyond my fill

Friday 12th August 2016. Well it is if you adhere to the modern Roman Calender. If you don’t its now.
I feel devastated that people are dying across our world daily it seems, through war and terrorism, yet its only reported if they are ‘western’ in origin. Its as if you don’t live or get born into a ‘civilised’ (using that word deliberately as its how we in Britain are educated to think of the ‘Western’ nations even now) nation then your life is worthless.
We look at pictures of people in Africa dying in poverty, children starving to death, mass graves of Rwanda where their own leaders sanction mass murder and ethnic cleansing, Syria where our forces are bombing innocent people, killing thousands, we see these images and ignore them.
We trust our ‘leaders’ to do the ‘right’ thing. We believe ourselves to be the ‘goodies’ and all others the ‘baddies’.
We see people fleeing death whether through war, violence, famine or starvation as ‘dangerous’ the ‘enemy’ as desperate.
We know they are people, accept they bleed, feel and die, but do not believe they are the same as us. We believe they cannot love their kids, their partners, their parents in the same way as we do.
This used to be almost restricted to peoples skin colour but now with even European countries being in turmoil its anyone that hails from poorer countries. Whatever their colour, religion, culture or creed.
What you all seem to have forgotten however is how the world works. How things change with such rapidity. How we now are the fourth or fifth richest country, a hundred years ago we were the richest. Dubai was one of the poorest. 200yrs ago the USA was our colony.
Currently the UK has limited resources, little industry and our economy over the last 40yrs has been more and more made up of people selling off our assets to raise capital to then use that to speculate on international stock markets. We get involved in wars still for power (no longer called Imperialism but exactly the same just with less visible strings to our puppets).
We are not as a nation affable, friendly, pleasant, good, or often even right. We are oppressive, violent, greedy, corrupt, underhand, and pretty vile. I say we for it is ‘we’ that allow this to happen in our name. It is ‘we’ that ignore it, that turn away from the truth. We support these ongoing vile actions by our continued inaction.
Does your life matter more than that of a Syrian man? Only to you and yours. Do not think you really matter more to those that rule and lead our country. You do not. Your life only matters if you become a Public Relations issue.
Our leaders see you and me as we see those poor refugees, the see us as a herd, that they can graze upon to feed their wealth and power.
If you or your loved ones are poor, on a low wage, unemployed or disabled you already may suspect this. Programs on the Establishment owned TV channels like ‘Benefits Britain’ ‘Jeremy Kyle’……. the list goes on are designed to make the middle majority view the poor not as vulnerable human beings but as corrupt, wicked and lazy. A drain on the country. We are taught that the Elderly are not to be respected but once have stopped working are damaging our economy. We are told this by billionaires and believe it!
The real reality is life is life. If you are a human being you are the same as the next one. Whether you drive a Porsche or live on the streets your life should mean as much as anyone else’s. Sadly though we are not allowed to think that. We cannot teach that. We cannot promote that.
Difference in our world is wrong. Poverty is your own fault. People deserve to starve to death or die of hypothermia. If ‘we’ bomb them they are the evil ones whether they are trying to hurt us or just live.
That’s Western morality, your morality. Just think about it.
Jonesy.

Call me socialist call me fool
Call me angry but never cruel
To want a world equal and true
Should be morality for me and you

Well am completely immobile now with this fibro attack. Too exhausted to move. Too much pain to properly sleep. Need hands, arms, feet and legs chopping off. Like the monty python knight.
Feeling miserable but not sad, weak but determined, irate but not angry, frustrated but calm.
Its now that I truly remember that I am ill, that this is a disability and that I cannot live as before. I will again forget.
The last rays of a wasted day are now seeping into my bedroom. My open door showing the dark bleak passage out from where I am to where I need to be.
This disease, syndrome or whatever the hell it is truly does isolate us from friends, from focus, from meaning, from reality and yes from life.
Don’t send hugs for today even hugs will hurt.
See you when this is over
Jonesy

3am the quietest of hours. Sitting here with the gentle hum and trickling sounds of my fish tanks filters. The blue glow from a night light over one of the habitats. If i look close enough can see the younger guppies darting in and out of the weeds. Their own world. A micro civilisation of sorts.
The tank has its own hierachy , but not really one you would expect. The smaller but more numerous young guppies even pushing older sword tails and a small white angel about. The larger sucking loach being like a grumpy granddad with all reluctantly giving in to his occasional outbursts.
At 3am I can imagine myself in their world. Vying for a position of power in their small world. The two tanks in the bedroom have my smaller fish in one and a lone aggressive large Angel in the other.
My big tank in the living room is a whole different world. In that there are fish but also frogs. There is a big shark (related to sprats and herring but resembling a Shark) a very active Sailfin Molly, various different types of the larger of the tetra family, a few plecs n catfish including an eel like one and an albino Cory, a gourami, and four frogs of different sizes. The big Angel became too aggressive for this tank hence his now solitary existence.
I am no expert on my fish but generally unless they are attacked they seem happy. They get fed and cleaned out and come to see me at the glass.
They tell me when its feeding time. We are told fish have no memory but mine definitely do. My Shark – ‘Richard’ named by my son as he is largest fish in the tank and its a play upon Moby Dick, comes chatting to me. Its easy to imagine him and molly having conversations with me (its ok I don’t listen to them too often lol).
I change all the tanks about fairly frequently and have introduced more plants of late. The fish seem to love this. The frogs definitely do, they have become bolder less elusive. They swim about and at times just floating on the surface, only needing a miniature beer can and hawaiian shirts to complete the picture.
I love each of these little worlds, they are far simpler and generally more happy than our own. Bullies and killers straight away identified and incarcerated in solitary. Their own rules. But even these worlds having a belief system. A god. The being that comes along and pronounces arbitrary justice, changes the physical state of the world, cleans their streets and feeds them. This supreme one even dictates whether its night or day for them. They do not complain, do not argue over differences in their own interpretations of when changes will happen or when they will be fed next or even by whom. They just accept it, and get on with their lives.
Their world is far far simpler than our and for that I truly envy my fish.
But more than that I love them, I love that they give me a different view on my world, they divert my thoughts from pain, from lethargy. My fish and Gayle my Gecko give me a forced routine, a reason for moving even when my body tells me I cannot. My role is to ensure my fish and Gayle are fed and cared for. I do this every day. If I have to crawl to get there I still do it. Its not a chore its motivation. I currently have few reasons to get out of bed. These wonderful creatures ensure I do even on my worst days.
Jonesy.