Pages

Monday, 8 September 2014

Fuck This, Go Rob a Bank



What is this now? Another middle aged gripe? Another feckless moan at the futility of it all. Maybe its the realisation we all get to when you reach that point in life when surely, it all HAS a point right? Of course your work life is not the point OF life, but work life balance should surely swing in your favour as one gets older, I have made sensible decisions, done ok here and there, bereavements are the norm in any family of course and maybe I have had a little more than my fair share of those.

But fuck this, the only people I see doing well are the ruthless and the cleverest that can bend a rule or legally interpret something that allows them to skim the surface of criminality.

My own anarchic soul that's allowed itself to be chained to my sensibilities is screaming through the noise of  societal indoctrinated respectability shouting...

'FUCK THIS, GO AND ROB A BANK'



Fuck this, go rob a bank.
Forty years of graft behind me.
Still have the nothing.
Spent the money on keeping up with the price of life.
Going up faster than I can pay for it.
The odds stacked against most of me.
They need me to be behind.
Creates demand.
Look down, see what you find.
See a dog when it is thrown scraps.
Its head down sniffing out the goodies.
That is I.
Head down sniffing out the goodies.

Conforming is easier.
The man pats you gently.
Gives you a little for it.
The many-armed godhead has its hands in all your pockets.

Fuck this, go rob a bank.
Chance is the new opportunity.
Opportunity for chance everywhere.
Fuck this, go rob a bank.
Have a year off, do as you please.
Out of the gaze of the man
For a while at least.