Point Of View

I wish I knew where my head was, maybe then
it would be easy to stare at official lines without
dreaming of becoming a new me, well-adapted,
happy and free, who can listen to machine-gun
fire voices enumerating blood-curdling facts in
a succession of explosive sounds scaring the
life out of me

Peppery-tongued duchess cheerfully explaining
how ill my brother is, relishing her descriptions
of mother’s pain attacks, not a quiet moment to
assimilate this barrage of facts - I would like to
be involved in many activities, yet whenever a
restless, uncontrolled energy starts spinning
out of control

My mind clamours for time to calm down and get
back to silence as a means to process the news -
to rewrite the script in order to emphasise positive
aspects in every event, to look at things from my
own point of view, use my own eyes to reinterpret
distorted pictures relayed by prejudiced speakers
from a threatening perspective

To replay their stories starting from the assumption
the universe is a benevolent holograph created by
intelligent energy spinning in unequalled beauty
delighting all using magnetic electricity to attract
the events they have chosen to experience…