“The unpredictable nightmare”

And another poem from the 80’s…

It’s my responsibility to warn my friends
of the inevitable fate which man awaits,
there’s no turning back to good old times,
prepare yourself friend
for future subtle trends.

Sitting here closed indoors
awaiting a glimpse, maybe even more
it’s difficult to say what one awaits
especially if he’s extempore.

Sitting, staring, hoping, never concentrating
awaiting and shocked coloured with fright
so said Hercules to Cyclopses bride,
it’s all a joke you must think
me sitting here writing all this stink.

Lost in thought on a suburban train
stopping at every station from here to home
watching scenes from left to right
maybe its just an imagination of sight.

Are they real these things we touch?
Are they solid, liquid or dust?
To understand them is to feel
things around us which appear so unreal.

I must liberate myself from the curse
the one Adam created for us to rehearse,
again and again it appears to me
that life is a jungle
in which it’s impossible to be free.