The Moment of Responsibility...

Vicky doesn't get it.

Why would I want to write a book about things that I find so distasteful such as what we're doing to our planet and ourselves, how we snuggle down in a cocoon of lies and bury ourselves away from a truth that becomes less escapable every day. But that's what a writer does, I think, look for the uncomfortable truths of life. Success comes when you can face them and speak them to people.

I've been spending a lot of time this week, looking at uncomfortable truths and talking about them here on the blog. As I told Vicky this evening, my style is to allow them to infect me, to bruise me in a way and display those bruises in my writing.

So, get ready for something new. I don't usually write poetry any more. I try to stay pretty far away from it, for my own reasons. But there are times when it is inescapable.

Here's one I just wrote. It is not about suicide, however much you might see that. It is about that moment that comes when you decide to face the truth and you realize the wasted life that has dominated you up until then. It is called The Moment of Responsibility...


Won’t you please kill this man bothering me?
He’s got hair like an ape and the mind of a flea.
A back broke with excuses
A mind on the shelf
Can’t you please kill him?
This man is myself.


Can’t you please kill this man I can’t contend.
No sense of compassion nor boon will he lend.
Concrete eye covers
To ensure he won’t see
Can’t you please kill him?
This person is me.


I need you to kill him
And let this be clear
Mere survival means death
And so death is more dear.
It is life that we seek
Not the bliss of the dumb
Call it sacrifice, mercy, whatever you like
But let me be the one.