What Choice Do I Have? A Poem

In the tradition of poetic realism

The ‘I’ of one presents itself in various way in the ‘I’ of all

Oh, what choice do I have?

landing on this weary earth

without natural selection

a household of odd parents

behind windows with partial light

where love abides with

besotted views, untenable demands.

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Were their choices in growing up?

what options beyond harm’s reach?

could I choose my DNA, size, shape

or mind, clever, shy, or engaged

Do I always feel loved?

I reject the adults who

robbed me of childhood

they behave as imposters

I cried, made clear my protests

who display supreme authority

made me face Judgement Day

over my yearnings to dance.

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Rainbow of Totnes, Devon, England

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What choice to select kindness?

to escape a culture of bullies,

or walk out of class confinement

or the penchant for happiness?

or find partiality for playfulness

and immerse in fusion of fun?

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A huge wave fell on midnight hour

love swept me in its magical current

I took the way of least resistance

until she caught me in her arms

I never felt like this before

while I landed upon my feet

what choice did I have to resist

her unstoppable magnetism?

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What choice did I have

when she left for green pasture?

my soul in a dugout of despair

alone in a cold, double bed

she has wrapped herself

around a perfect penis

breaths squeezed into oneness

her night could not come

too soon, my night descends

on me far too quick.

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What choice to be in my 30s?

demigod lands on my skull

two grey hairs warn of decades gone

of a life unexplored, unlived,

hairy-scary signals reveal

ways, reminders of yesterday

the ease of all night parties

of dives into winter seas

fearless indulgence of adventure.

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What choice of a savaged income?

bankers-wankers, dealers in desire

they who promote debt,

loans for homes and business,

loans for financial markets,

crash, crash, crash, heartbreak

leaving me a hammered head.

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Inflated desires lead to inflation

recession leads to depression

body of the Earth, bodies of life

economic growth, economic cancer

body politic, body dying

as I nibble crumbs at the Last Supper.

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Living sparks an awakening

unthought, unplanned,

glow of insights, realisations

abundance of expanded view

with the vigour of the heartbeat

vision leaves behind the old

I don’t’ know how this happened

like a blue dolphin upsurge

into the clear, blue sky.

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What shows me the way to the outdoors?

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I want to buy this, just this

I can’t make up my mind

my mind can’t make this up.

I search and search. I find and

find. The more I find the

more indecision haunts me

a paralysis of the chooser

with the default suggested

a flight from making a choice

I slump in the lazy mind.

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My mind lands on reviews,

comments, ratings,

let others decide for me

a package goes in the shopping bag

Amazon offers cardbaord boxes

profits built on addiction to inertia

little else to welcome

life hides somewhere else

tasted in the rich tea

for the tillerman

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Do I sign up to the dating

agency, a purity of intent or

addiction to desires

scrolling through, endless faces

entertainment, sex to escape

the boredom of inept days

craving for sensations, blind

hunt for the romantic ideal.

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I breathe types of Covid, plus

long Covid, short Covid

I breathe the air viruses

plague of enviro-mental life

plus, pollution, cigarette

smoke, fossil fuels from

transport, emissions

carbon dioxide

chemicals, carcinogens

while I cough with my

lungs screaming for mercy

from such daily abuse

devoid of human rights,

animal rights, eco-rights.

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Bottled water in one hand

is it a poisoned chalice?

mobile phone in the other

does it steal my mind?

I drink nano-plastic particles

in my bottled water, each one

revealed in my urine.

I absorb numbed texts,

disconnect from the real

dark net and dark X,

dark Instagram and dark despair

pressed to the ears and eyes

an aid to dullness, onto dementia.

sabotage of choice close at hand

where virtual becomes the real.

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I woke up this morning after

a perfect day, you reap what

you sow, nothing above nor below,

no goodbye, no hello

a song to say, a heart to beat

not sought and oh so sweet

I could not ask for more

I could not ask for less

I found myself truly blessed.

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What choice do I have in

daily abuse heaped on my

tongue? I eat additives

I drink additives

to encourage addiction

emulsifiers, chemicals,

flavours, colour, fat, sugar,

salt, obesity, heart disease

high blood pressure.

a weight upon being human

a shrinking of my humanity.

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What choice do I have?

My mouth has become a hole

to bury the waste of the food industry,

I dig my grave with a knife and fork.

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My issues cling to wellbeing.

fingers grip to a raft at sea

daily challenge to find purpose

the norm is toxic trauma

uncertain immune system

a swallow of daily pharma-

industry’s gluttony of chemicals.

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What choice in the big picture?

When I am here, death is not

death is here when I am not.

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Yet, despite everything

tawny owl calls in the night

a robin sings despite feline

threats and flowers welcome

soft sun, soft rain and soft hands.

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Something comes to me

I know not where

to burst my daily

slumber. I feel the power of

truth. I bow down to the power

that upends the routine and blows

away the cobwebs of time.

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“We have no choice,” said our leaders.

“They gave us no choice. We must

defend our values, our civilisation.”

Choice for us. No choice for politicians.

They impose their views

“We live in a free society.

Everybody has freedom of choice.”

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I see the hypocrisy of views

Choice must not get in the way.

To hell with choice, they say.

Nothing must stop hatches opening.

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What choice do I make in the

triumph of the trivial

superficiality of shopping centres?

“Do you like this colour or that colour?”

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It could happen, somewhere,

anywhere, out of the blue,

out of the depth, out of nowhere

something magical, inspirational

amazing, awakening, liberating

in this world, out of this world

something will be revealed

never seen before

I can feel it in my bones.

I feel I am getting ready

It might be today.

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Let me never give up on passion

let me never give up on protest

of the ugly acts of our species

let something emerge

revealing the richness of being

and the joy of doing.

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What choice do I have?

Is there any vision left in us?

Is there?

Is there?