Uncategorized – Page 6 – Anton Martin Smith Writer

Honesty & ‘Kings Honours’ awards: Will you get a ‘Certificate’ or a ‘Carrot’ (Up the Jacksie)? (A Blog Post)

June 2, 2025June 3, 2025Posted in UncategorizedTagged Article, Australasian Issues, Humour, Kings Honors List, NZ Writing, NZPolitics, politics, Poverty, writingLeave a comment

By Martin Anton Smith martinantonsmith@gmail.com

In NZ because we are not yet a Republic – we have Knighthoods & Orders of Merit etc etc which have the stamp of approval from the head of state i.e in this case the King of England.

Quite often total assholes get awards. But since the world is run by assholes, this should not surprise anyone.

For example, this year they gave an old Politician (let’s just call her ‘Ruth RRRichardson’) an award. She in 1991 cut benefits to the poor.

She did it with a smile.

I was one of the poor children affected by this many years ago.

She literally took a day’s food out of me & my two sibling’s mouths – well also from my mothers too.

So, I don’t mind saying a giant FU to her, even now 34 years since she did the dirty on the poor kids & their single mother parents……now you know the context, let me get into the meat of this sandwich…. I’ve came up with an “Alternate history of Ruth Richardson’s Kings honor award” …here it is

Why don’t they just be honest when handing out Kings Honours Awards?

e.g. The revamped ceremony that now favours honesty might go like this (imagine an aging society fuddy duddy giving a ‘weird chemistry teacher look-a-like’ female politician getting the award) :

“Ruth RRRichardson – you get a Kings Honour for the following chicanery category”:

“For the holding down of the poor & the ‘great unwashed’ and for distracting them from the fact they are slaves slash chattel of the state; & For the picking of their pockets over the period of X decades in under the guise of helping them out – your unrivaled dastardry & pig-headed lack of empathy has surprised & enamoured you to us – the most withered of joyless souls who exist at the highest ranks of this very rancid & farty smelling room”.

& then they say this

“Now bend over & receive the giant golden carrot, which once removed & cleaned can be redeemable for 100% cold pressed kiwi-slave juice”

“I’ve been waiting decades for this carrot” She said as she smiled for the camera – although the “smile” was not really a smile as the ends of her lips remained fully below the horizontal plane.

And what did I have to do with this new Kings Honours ceremony? I was so happy that I was made the convener for “The distributing the Kings Honors Physical Awards to each winner” This means I was able to push through this diktat while no one was looking:

13-b section 2: The Mean ones can get the oversize carrot up the jacksie, & the nice ones can get a certificate.

Through some twist of fate, the quality control staff didn’t delete my diktat & this came to be. The only thing that annoys me?

The bad ones liked the carrot.

That was not the plan.

“Corporatitus” ( A Poem)

May 30, 2025May 30, 2025Posted in UncategorizedTagged Alienation, Cities, life, Modernity, Poems, social commentary, The Corporate World, The Human Condition, Work, writingLeave a comment

by Martin Anton Smith martinantonsmith@gmail.com

The longer you have divorced yourself from the banal “Corporate World” the more you recognise it as a disease.

If you are good you can literally see it emanating off those who still suffer from…

Let’s call it “Corporatitus”.

Although we shouldn’t hate these people.

We should feel sorry for them as they are merely victims of the ubiquitous focused brainwashing.

We should quietly, compassionately, & creatively help to bring them to the light.

So that one day in the hopefully-near-distant-future,

They will realise they have become poorly paid supporting actors,

In a very bad movie,

That they didn’t write.

Then they at least have a chance,

To slip out the back studio door & once again feel real-life sunlight on their face.

Special Post: “To the Denizens of the Very Big Cities of Earth” (An Open letter/Prose)

May 25, 2025May 30, 2025Posted in UncategorizedTagged Capitalism, Cities, city life, Economics, Emancipation, Freedom, history, Open Letter, philosophy, politics, social commentary, Sociology, Urban life, Wage-Slavery, Word-of-workLeave a comment

by Martin Anton Smith martinantonsmith@gmail.com

Dear Denizens of the various ‘Very Big Cities’ of planet Earth,

I would like to convey some home truths, not to taunt but to educate &, if i am lucky, put some wind beneath some weary & mottled wings.

I shall get right into it.

Living & working in A ‘Very Big City’ teaches you to embrace a culture of high consumption, materialism & disposability in your life & so also your relationships.

The denizens of the Very Big City suffer from “slowly boiled alive frog syndrome”.

The environment is so toxic yet so normalised, ever present, yet also invisible to the denizens’ hacked eyes.

If you the ‘Very Big City denizen’ don’t recognise this, then you can’t combat the effect.

This is also very profitable for the Corporations – & that’s no coincidence.

The whole reason for a ‘Very Big City’ to exist – is to provide a good return on capital & return on labour employed to the Capitalist.

If you are an employee in a Very Big City who has to go to work to survive – & that’s ninety percent of the population in these cities – & you don’t recognise the true reason a Very Big City exists, then you can’t ever save your soul – then so you will be miserable.

It is as sure as an apple falling from a true under the Gravitational Force.

There’s no avoiding it, even if you have a so called big salary.

Big salary jobs were created by Capitalists of the ‘Very Big City’ to fool employees to selling their time & energy at a highly amplified rate.

The trick played by the Big City Capitalists on the upwardly striving wage-slave is that they think that they can rise up the social ladder, slowly shed their misery on the way up, & be blinded to their in truth amplified wage-slave reality.

As planned by the Capitalist Oligarchs of the Very Big City, the upwardly striving wage-slave never finds the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow.

The trick works perfectly, as once the amplified wage-slave reaches the top, but is still not a bona-fide capitalist, they will do anything to hide their retained if not also amplified misery.

If they let out the truth out of their retained & probably amplified misery, this now amplified wage-slave couldn’t handle the blow to their fragile egos.

This is why so many so called ‘successful’ people in the ‘very big city’ do themselves in, & die by their own hands – they can’t handle the reality, the now mountainous level of pain & anguish, the swindle they let themselves be so easily fooled by.

Big Cities are for Capitalists & people who aren’t Capitalists but aren’t so blind to not know it, & so keep a part of their soul for themselves. Everyone other than that has allowed their soul to be stolen by that ‘Very Big City’.

Often it’s not there fault, that they allowed their soul to be stolen by the ‘Very Big City’ – some did recognise it, but all too late. When they realised they were actually digging a grave & not a life, they were too deep to escape it. From that point you either end it all or you go insane, & agree to keep doing the same thing expecting a different result. So they just kept digging their own graves.

Others escape to the country late in life – but by then the damage is done, the quartz of dispair has become chrystalised. As they say you always take the weather with you. You must leave the Very Big City relatively early, before it is too late.

The overarching reason why all the denzens of Very Big Cities of the world are almost all zombified, cognitive dissonance, Einsteinian version insane, learned helplessness type slowly boiled-alive frogs?

Human beings tend get to comfortable with very uncomfortable conditions, so long as they are highly predictable.

So the real antidote to becoming just another empty shelled garden variety victim of the ‘Very Big City’ is this:

Know thy self, Know thy surroundings, know thy species.

If you know that, preferably earlier than later in life, you will know thy can still escape the real-life Gotham Cities that are, just like the upwardly striving wage-slave, amplifying their misery throughout the world.

Now pledge to never allow them to take all of your whole soul…ever!

Good luck, you are worth it.

P.S. To the few Capitalists & Companies of the V.B.C.’s who are on the side of good – keep battling & your commitment to your workers well-being as well as profits helps massively in the war…for is it not a war we are in – a war for a (wo)mans mind, time & energy?

M.A.S 25/05/2025

Hi there, it is me again…..

I have written some more on the subject, of the same theme – so I will add it here:

….If you try to look for life amongst the dead, you will always end up 100% disappointed, for life cannot flourish in locations where death holds the reigns.

This is why all of the “successful” people that the media dishes up to you are morbidly unhappy, & it shows on their faces. their sunken eyes with vibrancy that has disappeared many decades ago, they look twenty years older than they should.

The modern economy is actually a Death Cult – people who worship death the most in this system are rewarded, or should I say thrown more crumbs by the grim reaper of the The Economy. They are given more paper promise money. But the currency & all its cultural trimmings – banality, lack of creativity, snobbishness etc is only fully valid & redeemable within the death camps – the Big Cities.

Life can only flourish outside the death camps, in the villages & the country, where the death camp currency holds less sway, & life community, happiness, & health can dominate. True Evil must always not only hide this fact – it must reverse & invert it.

So, the mouthpieces of death – The electronic screens, the bosses, the landlords & the owners, the girlfriends, the wives must always work to denigrate the small towns, villages & the countryside, & pump up the paper money urban globe-trotting billionaire with the demon-like face.

To gain traction in the Big City you must all swear an oath to join the army of the soulless. So, that you become a body with no life, a machine with no individual will of your own. A thing that swallows the empty platitudes that dominate the cityscape. The correct instructions & programming that that you were born with – i.e. the contours of Life itself has now gone – that is to say – you have renounced Life itself, & replaced it with Death.

With that accomplishment done, Evil can now ply its trade in full upon you. That way people will see bad as good & good as bad. Then they will voluntarily enter the death camps looking for salvation, well-being & happiness from a cult & camp of death itself.

Brainwashed & re-programmed out of knowing what Life itself is & what it means, they now unwittingly plea to the gateholders of death for a chance to die. When an agent of Death supplies the wish, you have a fleeting sense of joy that feels real. You have been given your chance to move up the social ladder that is a total illusion, based on manufactured false scarcity.

They pray & worship the grimmest of reapers that have the run of those urban un-living nightmares called ‘Big Cities’. They are then given a gravestone to carry around with them – a Corporate Job in the Big City.

Armed with this Job there is nothing left to do but die. And that is what people in their millions & now perhaps billions do. The Evil has succeeded in destroying the Life that you used to have. And you gave it away easily.

But you don’t need to.

So, you can leave the Corporate Job & the Big City. You can start to get Life itself back. Or you can stay in the Big City & preach about what it actually is – a Death Cult, far more insidious that Auschwitz could have ever hoped to be. Point out to the infected that they have been made to think down is up & good is bad, bad is good. The reception will be more than bad – but if one soul is saved then your mission is accomplished. For if this happens, the saved person will save another, then soon it is only a matter of time before the lies are all noticed & the Death Camp, The Death Cult, The Death Economy, The Death Gatekeepers, The Corporate Death Jobs, & The Big City completely folds.

Why not help that Big City meet its True & final destiny a little faster than it otherwise would have? Or you can continue to blindly serve in the ranks of the Evil army of the walking dead.

M.A.S. 30/05/2025

“The Party’s Over” (A Poem)

May 24, 2025May 24, 2025Posted in UncategorizedTagged aging, Divorce, fiction, Marriage, men, Partying, Poems, relationships, social commentary, The battle of the sexes, Women, writingLeave a comment

by Martin Anton Smith martinantonsmith@gmail.com

I think men age better than women,

But women want to party more as they age.

But by age 50 men & women are in the same place on that matter –

Neither of them wants to leave the couch.

That’s when the old party animals all marry each other,

Always in the now traditional ‘Western De-facto way’ of course,

With both the man & the woman finally both admitting total military defeat.

And while they have both agreed to unconditional surrender,

They can still argue peace terms until one of them dies.

So they can now pick away at each other equally, like cohabitating pigeons.

Sometimes pecking softly, other times the pecks reign down like the falling Sword of Damocles.

And all is good.

This one-part misery, one-part part heaven, is after all what they’ve been training for all their lives.

This all keeps both of them mentally agile,

Helping both parties stave away ‘early onset dementia’.

And all this sillyness is the correct amount of punishment for all that ‘wanting to be free’ for so long.

All in all,

I’d sum it up it like this:

All’s well that ends well.

Or as my old dusty old Chemistry Professor said:

“Like dissolves like”.

For it is true, isn’t it?

The world’s problems & most divorces for that matter,

Are surely mostly caused because people insist on trying to mix oil & water.

Can’t you see it’ll never work baby?

Even those old shabby co-habituating party animals can see that!

Let us always remember,

Wisdom comes in many guises,

And it often ain’t so pretty.

“T-rugby or more simply – Trugby” (A Humorous Idea/Blog Post)

May 23, 2025May 23, 2025Posted in UncategorizedTagged Comedy, England, Farce, Humour, Rugby, Rugby Union, Skit, Sport, TeaLeave a comment

“T-rugby or more simply – Trugby” by Martin Anton Smith

I have a new idea “Tea Rugby”. It’s like normal Rugby, but at any moment a player can say “Tea!”. After the cry of “Tea” then play immediately stops & a very big Tea urn is brought out on wheels to where the last play was. The players then have cups of tea handed out to them (in order of total caps played). After the last man finishes the last bit of tea, play resumes with the players returning to their same individual spots as when the cry of “Tea” first went up. It’s kind of a twist on the Basketball “time out” – this is a “Tea out”. The English will love this new idea!

P.S. The amount of “Tea Outs” is only limited to the total tea that is on hand at the particular venue of that particular game.

P.P.S There will be a prize for the player with the “least dirt on his jersey”, & another for the player that “touches the ball the least”

P.P.S If the Tea runs out mid-pour for any of the players, this means it is a “free for all” & whichever team/player gets to the ball first (which is placed at the last point of play) can use it to score a try – with no regard given for the former player positioning when “Tea” was called.

“Cities don’t work well” (A thought or Article)

May 16, 2025May 19, 2025Posted in UncategorizedTagged Cities, Dating, Melbourne, New York, social commentary, Sociology, wellingtonLeave a comment

by Martin Anton Smith martinantonsmith@gmail.com

I reckon most females in cities go get a new boyfriend in exactly the same way they’d go buy some new shoes. Inevitably she wears out them & throws them away for the next edition. Call me cynical, but I reckon I’m right. I guess its the same for males, although not entirely as females tend to be the “choosers” (but not always if females outnumber males).

This is why the birth rate has dwindled or has a tendency to – all that is happening is that the industrial consumerism culture in big cities also spilled over into relationships. The effect was entirely predictable & was always gonna happen.

This is why I think that big (western at least) cities aren’t sustainable & require mass immigration to ensure the correct amount of younger people are being brought into the system/city.

Then what happens is the city degenerates into crime & disorder because the non western elements prefer to set up their own sectarian enclaves.

Eventually with this tendency of big cities to end up in a inhomogeneous, weakened & uncooperative state, the city falls to an singular ethnic invading force & the cycle happens all over again.

There is the possibility that the city falls to a singular invading force from within as well. Perhaps this is what we are seeing in cities that have hugely embraced far left ideology – also known as ‘Cultural Marxism’.

When that happens I believe these cities are devouring themselves, which further weakens the city & still paved the way to a more homogeneous much stronger invading foreign population.

*cough* *cough* Melbourne *cough* Wellington* cough *Portland* cough* London* cough* Paris* cough New York…..*cough* *cough*…what next? We should recognise the danger we are in the middle of & work on ways to reverse it. Or perhaps this is just our destiny – to be taken over by a more stable, balanced & sensible lot.

We do live inside the pages of History, after all, don’t we? This no doubt means we will get what the pages of History have already dished out a myriad of times before……..I wonder if this means cities like Melbourne, New York will do then?

Perhap’s while fleeing the apocolyptic helfire, they’ll think to themselves “Hmm maybe we shouldn’t have sacrificed our men for fine dazzling overpriced shoes” ……

…..But I doubt it.

…..BUT…..we must remember this too…..

We need not follow the madness of crowds…..

We can look inside our souls to find the answer….& decide that we’d rather be decent, balanced & on the path to well-being….

I’m on that journey, & if you’re reading this…then so are you…lets wish ourselves good luck in evading the millions of soul-sucking zombies, whose natural habitat is a a big city….that are all sewn together like siamese twins in that amorphous dark cloud the psychologists have called ‘group identity’!

…..of course there are many many awesome people in Big Cities….this article has been mostly about ‘exaggeration for effect’, this is not be a “a-hole” to city dwellers – I am merely trying to point out that the bigger a city you live in, the more social problems there are @ the more atomised a life can be if one doesn’t guard against it. . .Cities can be great, but I think they are best served in small doses.

“She Regaled A Ghostly Truth” (A Poem)

May 15, 2025May 15, 2025Posted in UncategorizedTagged Angels, Ghosts, Spirits, Truth, WisdomLeave a comment

By Martin Anton Smith martinantonsmith@gmail.com

And so, she then she turned & said to me:

Do you see what is real & free?

Is It true that stuff you feel –

Became the biggest facade of them all?

————————————————–

And again she turned around & said:

That pain you’re inside is the planted seed,

Reaped from a world told but not true.

You’re to move beyond that wound and flee

————————————————————

As then as her glowing image faded,

And her spectre’s wisps drew up & through,

I knew that that all I held so close,

Had merely been the frontal view.

“Jerry & Sam Successfully Negotiate Their Way Home ” (A Skit or Short Story)

May 14, 2025May 14, 2025Posted in UncategorizedTagged fiction, Humour, life, short story, Skit, travel, Working Class culture, writingLeave a comment

by Martin Anton Smith martinantonsmith@gmail.com

Two drunkard old timers are wobbling back towards home from the pub together & see something that makes one of them become startled.

“What’s that?” Said Jerry to his mate Sam & pointed at a black scorch mark on the ground.

“Oh Jerry my man!, That was our old mate George – it’s such a pity – ‘e couldn’t contain his excitement & ‘e just self-combusted”

“Oh yeah Sammy!, I remember ’em, ‘e walked with a limp used to live for the beers before ‘e got married – what was ‘e so excited about Sam??”

“Well Jerry, ‘is wife had finally relented – after a decade of locking ’em inside, she finally relented & said ‘e could go down to the pub for a few beers with ‘is old mates – so by the time ‘e was ten meters from the pub, ‘e was so revved up ‘e self-combusted! All that’s left of ’em is that black scorch mark in front of us!”

“Aw..that’s a terrible…terrible way to go Sammy – ‘e didn’t even get to the pub, didn’t get to say hi to us, ‘e didn’t even get ta wet ‘is whistle at all!”

“Well Jeer – that’s how many of the blokes are going these days matey, things have changed! They’ve even got a new name for it – I saw it on ol’ Georgie’s death certificate – it read “death caused by overexcitement brought on by toxic marital henpeckery”.

“What are we gonna do about it all Sam?”

“Well Jeer, you get the Janola & I’ll get the scrubbing brush.”

“You idiot Sam! That’s all that’s left of ‘em, we gotta show our respects to ‘em, not scrub him away.”

“Right you are Jeer – what was I thinkin’!? Let’s just stand ‘ere next to ‘im & ‘ave a can of beer & ‘ave a minutes silence.”

“You mean a minutes silence AND a gulping of the beers, Sammy.”

“It’d be disrespectful to Georgie if we didn’t! In fact Jeer – we ought to empty a can of beer on ‘is black scorch too as a sign o’ respect!”

“’ey let’s not go overboard Sammy – have you seen the price of a pint lately! Let’s just spill a few mouthfuls for ‘em from each of our beer cans, & after all it’s ‘is own fault for marrying that jailer henpecky Mrs of ‘is”

“Your right Jeer! To ‘eck with ’em – let’s just nod at ’em whenever we walk over the scorch while comon’ & goin’ from the pub!”

“Not even that Sammy, fetch the Janola lad – looking at that scorch is now is just making me think of that yellow belied boob – let’s erase our so called chum Georgie or should I say “Georgie the scorchie!”.

“Yeah great idea! ‘e always kinda annoyed me anyway…..but Jeer… there is another way to look at it all”

“What’s that Sammy?…& this better be good”

“Well Jeer – that scorch mark will be bloody ‘ard to get off, even with Janola & a stiff bristled brush, it’ll take us ‘alf an ‘our at least – maybe an ‘hole ‘our!”

“………………………er…….Great bloke that George was….great bloke….Sammy…Let’s go buy a can o’ beer each from the ol’ off liscense, ya’know…that Supermarket down there…& one for our pal Georgie, we’ll be back ‘ere in no time to honour ’em & ‘is scorchmark!”

“Jeer, you’re a gentleman & a scholar man! – I agree Great guy that Georgie….we owe it to ‘im & ‘is scorch mark to spill him a few glugs – ‘eck maybe even spill a couple of cans on the ol’ scorchmark”.

“Settle on Sam, we didn’t like ’em that much – ‘e’s worth exactly one can of spilt beer, bought from the off liscense…that supermaket…once a week – tops.”

“Right on Jeer, we’ll let’s walk to the Supermarket, it’s only two blocks away”

“…..Two blocks!…Is it that far??? …..er…Boy that George was a total bastard – no wonder ‘is mrs didn’t ever let ‘em out – am I right or am I right Sam?”

“Totally agree Jeer – let’s go back to the pub & forget we ever met that scallywag…‘Georgie the scorchie’ indeed!

“I bloody agree Sammy! We can raise a glass to ‘is Mrs too! Lively lass she was! Full of joy she was! Never ‘urt a fly that one! ‘ow far away are we from the pub now?”.

“About two and a half blocks Jeer”.

“The off-liscense Supermarket’s ‘alf a block closer Sammy…come to think of it….George wasn’t really that bad all in all, & his Mrs was indeed a bloody ‘enpecker!”

“She was a total jailer warden Jeer! Doing that to that Saint of a man! Lockin’ ’em in like that for year after year! Let’s get some beers for ‘em & us, & we’ll be back tipping it in remembrance over ‘Georgie the scorchie’ in no time!”

“Yep Sammy, I reckon ‘alf a can will do ‘em well enough!”

“Right you are Jeer, as I’ve always said your a gentleman & a scholar”

“Shaddap & get your wallet ready Sammy!”

“….ah….yeah…no problem Jeer…ah are we sure ‘e wasn’t a bastard Jeer?, I mean I haven’t paid the overdue rent this week yet! I’m bloody skint!”

“My shout then Sammy – after all a mate’s a mate!”

“Boy that George was a great man! Jeer Let’s honour Georgie & his scorchie! I mustn’t have been feelin’ so well just then, you know I never doubted old George the Scorch for a second!”

“You’re a strange bloke Sammy, always changing ya mind like that – buy the way when can ya pay me back for the cans of beer I’m about to shout us all?”

“Might be a couple weeks Jeer – I mean I ‘aven’t paid the electric yet either!”

“That George was a bastard! Screw him, screw ‘is blimey scorch too! I’m off home Sammy!”

“I’ll follow your lead Jeer, I know you’re always right! Always ‘ave been! I’ve forgotten about George already & his stinkin’ scorchmark!…PS Jeer matey, when we get to your place you’ll have some beers for me won’t ya?, I mean that fridge of yours is always full – you can spare a ‘alf a dozen or two for your ol’ mate Sammy can’t ya?”

“….Look Sammy, I won’t have you talkin’ badly of ol’ Georgie, not now, not ever! Now I know you’re not feelin’ so well, so you prob ‘ave been imagining things, ‘earing things all funny like – now let’s get those cheap beers from the off liscense Supermarket for me you & our blessed Georgie the Scorchie – God bless ’em! & nuts to that damn ‘enpecker mrs of his too!”

“Never doubted you for a minute Jeer! I’m feeling much better all of a sudden! As I always say – gentleman & a scholar you – ‘e was a great bloke that Georgie, bloody pity ’bout ‘is henpeckery wife. God, I feel like a beer though….I mean we outa get a few extra in in Georgie’s honour, I mean three beers between me you & George the Scorch is bloody nothin’”.

“Look Sammy, I keep tellin’ ya – George was just an OK guy, not good not bad – just ok – three beers is what me, you & ‘e needs…..look at a stretch maybe ‘e’s good enough for me to have three, you to have two & him to have one…ok!?”

“That’s a deal Jeer!…I mean, yeah….you’re right ‘e was just kinda ok wasn’t he, not good, not bad – just ok– same for ‘is Mrs too. Ah that cheap off liscense supermarket beer is just what an ok man like Georgie needs right now! It would really ‘it the…er..I mean…. it would ‘it ‘is spot, ‘is scorchmark, if ya know what I mean Jeer!”

“Thanks Sammy mate…I got ya fella….lets go. By the way, ’bout time I properly introduced you to ‘ol Georgie’s widow soon – I mean after all -she’s an ok kinda lady, I mean – what’s the worst thing ‘at could ‘appen t’ya???”

End

“My Comic Book Days” (A Poem)

May 11, 2025May 12, 2025Posted in UncategorizedTagged ADHD, anxiety, Comics, depression, fiction, Forty-Six, health, Humour, life, mental-health, Middle-Age, PoemsLeave a comment

Sometimes I wonder….

Am I what’s left after making the decision many years ago to not to do myself in?.

For there a few stints of bed-riddled-ness when I was younger.

It would have been easy to seriously contemplate ending it all.

But for some weird reason I always had at least a kernel of hope,

To stave off the dark reaper, the destroyer most grim –

Pick a name.

Perhap’s I mostly keep myself alive for the hobbies.

The 60s-90s Rock music, The writing, The coffee-houses.

Yes that all seems so glib,

But it’s amazing how those things can keep you going,

Even when carrying such a wounded soul,

Even while being left holding a quiver full of broken Cupid’s arrows.

Even after this process repeats with the next long-haired spell-caster.

For I probably wouldn’t try a short haired one – call me old fashioned.

But then again, who am I kidding? –

The Port O’ Love has long been closed indefinitely –

This wasn’t so much a choice per se,

More of something external that chose to wash over me –

These the oh so quiet waters of self-preservation.

Or is my entire life just an ode to undiagnosed ADHD?

ADHD that was masquerading as Depression?

I’m sure all the Docs know this & that’s the swindle –

I am convinced there will be a shady medical profiteer’s book called:

“There’s nothing more profitable than misdiagnoses”.

But here I am at middle age – 46 almost 47.

Still Alive & fighting each day to not become what I used be:

“Self-destructo”

That guy unfortunately squashed a lot of my chances to be young & happy.

Though he did provide plenty of empty drunken highs along the way,

So, I guess I shouldn’t complain too much.

I guess a wise man would simply be grateful for it all & soldier on,

& be happy for the bonus wisdom squeezed out along the way.

And I guess this is our fate anyway:

To live in a world that doesn’t really work,

With the real well-designed one,

Forever just slightly out of reach.

To the more troubled life, the thought is soothing.

And so as the sun goes down, now the comic ends.

And as always….

Once again by the end of the day, the city is safe.

……….but for how long?