The 2.0 Version I’m Not

I wish my parents had built an upgraded version of me      let’s call it the 2.0 selfish version

Not taught me to think of others, nor walk in their shoes.Broken_egg_orange
I wish they’d told me to hold out for Jimmy Choos
that worth is indeed measured        in status and cents.

I wish they’d taught me to interrupt and shout louder
cover the world’s cacophony
that my views are important         more right than anyone else’s in the room.
I don’t want to listen always nor ponder in impartial waters.

I want to see the world in black and white instead of always turning the coin over
to check the other side.
And why, oh why do I always give second chances, third and fourth?

I wish I did not feel tugs of guilt at each morsel thrown out.
I wish those wide eyes and distended bellies would not haunt my cupboards, nor air miles prevent me
buying sweet fruit I know I’d love.

I wish I’d never been introduced to Patience, Prudence and Humility,
three hags who’ve slaked my appetite to win, murdered my ambition,

till faintest rumours of boasting make me laugh and shiver.

Yet disdain is all fine and good.
No one cares, disdained by me.
Adulated by masses, emboldened by success,
they fail, repeat, never learn, except to repent no more.
While I nurse, bruised and battered, an ego like an unboiled egg,
integrity left orphan in a world where I no longer belong.

The Outsider

 

Work commitments are taking over my life at present, so I don’t have much time to write or even think about interesting blog post topics.  So here is a poem I wrote a couple of weeks ago. Does anyone else keep on changing a poem every time they look at it?  I never seem to be able to find a final version for them.

I wish my parents had built me in the selfish version,
not taught me to think of others, nor walk in their shoes.
I wish they’d told me to hold out for Jimmy Choos
and that worth is indeed measured in status and cents.

I wish they’d taught me to interrupt and shout louder
to cover the world’s cacophony,
that my views are more important and right than anyone else’s in the room,
not always to listen and ponder in the shallows of impartiality,
to see the world in black and white instead of always turning the coin over
to check the other side.
And why, oh why always give second chances, three and four? Turn other cheeks?

I wish I did not feel tugs of guilt at each morsel
thrown out, not used to feed the starving child.
I wish those wide eye, distended bellies would not haunt my cupboards,
nor air miles prevent me buying sweet fruit I know I’d love.
I wish I’d never been introduced to Patience, Prudence and Humility,
three sisters who’ve slaked me of my appetite to win,
murdered my ambition, till faintest echoes of boasting
make me sneer, laugh and shiver.

Yet disdain is all fine and good.
No one cares, disdained by me.
Adulated by masses, emboldened by success,
They fail, repeat, never learn, repent no more.
While I nurse, bruised and battered, an ego like an unboiled egg,
integrity left orphan in a world I fail to fathom.

Empathy

She sits in laundry like a queen.

She heaves big sighs like someone slighted.

Each look reproaches

When she approaches.

She makes time fly in bustling beeps.

 

She yells at children far too often.

She issues orders, nags and rants.

It’s all her way

Or else no way.

She’s sly with arrows, hitting true.

 

Yet for all her sovereignty, the house is not clean

And administrative tasks fall largely through cracks.

For all her big postures, her actions near miss.

She’s long given up on gainful employment,

Or bringing in money, or useful discourse.

 

All this I can take, all this I can stomach.

But one thing I cannot and will not forgive:

When she forgets about us and shrugs off her kin,

When she goes off into her world of mad scribbles,

Leaving us poorer, defensive and flawed.