Abstract Obstruction Zone

Disconnected from the birthplace
Wandering, grin intact, but like curtains
hiding the dark on the window's other side
A shelf filled with a wealth of books
I'd need to live all over again to read them
A sad thought, obstructed by my disconnect
Skulls stand gaily on sideboards
Luckily no wax dribbled wine bottles remain
A night time of youth, disappears, waxing moon
There are no longer any bicycles in my house
and the space hopper burst on it's way to the graveyard
Rizla packs and old mugs, a sex pistols rare single
It's rarity no longer pleases, obstructed by my disconnect
I'll never buy another wedding album
That should make me happy, I have two already
A gored child's face stares blank from the CD rack
I used to love those songs, obstructed by my disconnect
The rise and fall of Reginald, or was it Ziggy?
The memory held back by a broken path
My old brain, swiss cheese or scratched record
I can't recall my first love's face, obstructed by my disconnect
I remember the first time I heard the word "nigger"
It upset my Mother more than "cunt", I felt proud
Paki bashing skinheads beaten up by gay pride gang
I used to dream such beautiful things
Now it's all sex and zombies, obstructed by my disconnect
My partner smiles and for a second things fit into place
I take a book from the shelf, one already read
I will start again, maybe there's time
The glorious friend with a salty custard Grandma
His laugh sometimes rings out when the silence bites
I try so hard to obstruct my disconnections
LET NOT anyone tear us apart, my sons gleam in the distance
"'til the sun burns out!" I told her a thousand times
I hope she's happy, smiling at some new car
Mind open, riverlike memories clash, no order
my Father laughs, like glorious thunder, a great man
A shadow of such length, it spans my life thus far
Beans on toast, a feast of unemployment, obstructed by my disconnect
Still there is no order, nor ever should there be
Ordered chaos? Oxymoronic theories abound
And still Joe Strummer is dead
Elvis is working in Clapham
and 2011 nears the time to close it's eyes
And put another book on my overflowing shelf of dreams.



In art and dream may you proceed with abandon. In life may you proceed with balance and stealth. -Patti Smith

Perfectly imbalanced

The object of the exercise is to create imbalance in the control machines - Adam Touhig