I (sometimes) call myself Mr. Pondersome. I'm a rather wordy, weirdy person. I say hullo a lot. I write a lot more. While you're here, why not give some of it a read?

Saturday, 21 September 2013

SELF DESTRUCT SEQUENCE ABORTED (a.k.a. How Much Trouble can Wordplay get me into?)

It was my choice
and I certainly couldn't handle the impact.
The blinking red lights were going off
and it was all round my head
instead of inside my head
so I let my finger hover over the solution
and consulted my man in white.
He said it'd be dangerous to push down now
at this critical stage
but he got things started anyway.

And I just stood there,
cradling the prospect, considering the burning and
the little nonexistence I could my own
at the end.
It'd hurt for a picosecond
but then what would remain of me,
a few stray molecules perhaps,
wouldn't be able to appreciate the beauty
I had just let out.

So should I be the mournful parent
who chokes my little darling before it
There was no time.

I punched it
and felt it right in the abdomen
and I had to say my goodbyes within
another picosecond
before they all piled on top of me,
called me a maniac for getting so close.
They were pro-choice, each of them
which came as no surprise.
They always do this at the last

I'll admit it, I will admit it,
I am a selfish parent
but don't defuse me like my miracle.
I am not a miracle,
I need to be taken in.

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