The Amazing Adventures of Jeremiah Jacobean

the fish that swam hardest died first
but the bear who caught the biggest fish fed her young
for that bit longer
and they grew quicker than the other bears nearby
and had the strength and speed to hunt for themselves
to catch the fastest fish for themselves
until the day the first-fed firstborn bear
encountered something new:
a man with a gun
harder than the hardest fish
colder than the icy waters
the bullet tore its soul away
as mighty pride
was replaced by fear and confusion
and as the bear fell face down
in the swell of the river
it caught a glimpse
of the very first fish
to make it up the river

felling trees for fun
shooting mink to pay the rent
caging birds until their song deserts them
chaining children to machines
incarceration without trial
putting profits before people
underestimating nature
forgetting your place
disrespecting elders
losing hope
capitulating to unjust powers
promoting unfair practices
letting anyone starve
money

When the darkness closes in
As the sun comes up
And the birds begin their morning song
But you haven't slept a wink

When the fear creeps into your soul
The shivers start and tears roll
The rancid stench of anxiety
Envelopes you from within

Begin

To think not from the depths
Of despair
But from the heart
That knows you have the strength
To carry on regardless
Taking power from the sunlight
As it glints upon your eyelashes
The sweet songs of the morning larks
Enliven you, dispell your fears
The world opens its arms
And welcomes you
As One
For you have made it through the night
And faced another day
And believe what your heart tells you
There is just no other way

The cellist dribbles as he plays
The melodies of his youth
Connecting past and future
With emotions rarely felt
By others not within the walls
Of his opaque fortress
As the bow bends cat-like
Round the screeching strings
His thoughts disabled
By the music, speaking loud and clear
Determined audience, moved to tears
By the gentle, steady, wise concerto
Fierce in its dynamism
Unlike the cellist
Sitting, dribbling, dying

'Give me a reason to live,'
She cried
Down the phone as I tried to find words
To disperse her distress
And quench her despair
Lest she take matters further
To seek other worlds
And my mind lumbered on
Subtle platitudes failed
Transference was useless
Her pain drove a nail
Deep into my soul
As she found little solace
From my desperate pleas
To spark fires of a future
Or some semblance of meaning
Contrived though it was
My resolve started bleeding
Along with her wrists,
So she told me, at least,
As life leaked from her veins
She fell into a heap
Murmured something so faint
That it almost escaped me
But I heard her say,
'Thank you, my son, and goodbye.'

The voodoo of your life begins to open doors
To times we wish we hadn't missed
Because we sat at home alone
Without the dreams we could have worn
Outright
Or maybe inside out
We lifted cans
Drank bottles dry
And cried
For something more or less
Or anything at all
To believe in
In between our shifts
Embittered by the call to arms
Controlling lest we be controlled
By all the ones we hate the most
Who smirk at our indifference
As it lines their pockets
And sends their swollen kids to college
Pays off the judge and bribes the pimps
Who sit atop their politics
Of hopeless insincerities
And still we sit at home alone
And smoke our lives away
Making plans and getting dreams lined up
To realise on another day

The day my limbs fell off

It was the weirdest moment of my entire existence. All my limbs, inexplicably, simultaneously, fell off. It could have been more embarrassing, as it happened, because I was fully clothed at the time, so people around me (on the morning tube from Liverpool Street to Oxford Circus) just though I had collapsed. It astounded me how quickly a couple of people reacted to my plight. I had always assumed people on the tube were engrossed in their own little misery bubbles and were totally oblivious to everything else int he universe until their door opened and they could once again re-enter 'life', but now I believe that some people are in a constant state of readiness to tackle a terrorist or help a stricken commuter. A women with striking (no, beautiful) green eyes croached next to me and asked, 'are you okay?' 'Yes, thanks,' I replied as I tried to stand, but I couldn't move my legs. In fact, I realised, I couldn't feel them. 'I can't move,' I said. I man of about forty-five, who had a belly with the dimensions of a medicine ball, looked at the woman (for slightly too long for my liking, I had fallen in love with her...) and said something to her that was too high in the carriage for me to hear. He grabbed me gently under the shoulder and said, 'let me help you'. The tube jolted as it came to a stop, commuter cattle side-stepped the inconvenience that was me, some tutting, some trying not to look. My two guardian guarded me. The man pulled me up to a seat that had been vacated, and as I plonked down my left arm fell out of my sleave. The man said, 'oh my God'. I looked at the woman, she looked concerned. I tried to raise my left hand to say I was okay, but that arm fell too, with a thud, to the tube floor. I fainted.

When I regained consciousness I was just a torso. No sign of any of my limbs. I was in a white room. Alway white, such rooms. Scares the shit out of me. No blood. That was the strange thing. I tried to sit up, but could get far. The woman from the tube came in. She was wearing white coat. 'What's happening?' I asked, in a calm voice. Her eyes were enchanting. 'There's no easy way to tell you this,' she said, 'but I am going to have to kill you.'

-What the fuck?!
-Well, it's like this.
-Like what.
-Be patient, Jeremiah...

I had never been called that before.

-You just popped up in the wrong time, wrong place. These things happen, I'm sure you'll understand.
-What, of course I don't understand. Please enlighten me.
-I would love to, Jeremiah, sincerely, but I've got a full list of executions today and you're the very first of the day. If I don't sort you out very soon, I'll never get to old Mrs Blarney by 11 o'clock.
-What?
-Right, times up, open wide...

My face uncontrollably split open. No pain, it just peeled itself like an over-ripe orange squeezed by a large, unseen hand, pulp splurging out.

-Goodbye, Jeremiah. I'm sure we'll meet again.

'Turncoats', yelled the doorman, as they left without a tip
The tall bespectacled chap called back
'You'd better watch your lip'
The doorman cried, 'I know your kind,
You think you're time has come.
You make your money from the poor
Don't share with anyone.'
The tall man scoffed, 'I'm no such toff,
You've overstepped your mark.
Alas, it is your time that's come,' he said
And smacked him in the mouth.

Morality the sodden cat
Left in the rain again
To muse on what its purpose is
And where it all went wrong
For once his place was by the fire
Warm next to Hope the dog
But things got nasty when the rats
Came running from the fog
And started gnawing at their tails
They wouldn't let them rest
Morality was driven from the hearth
And Hope and hopeless mess

Fostering belief in the world is not an easy thing
In this bland age of stuff that no one needs
But we all buy
Blinded by the constipationary blurbs forced from our throats
Banal expressions of conformist shit
That passes for office gossip
Keeping our hands in the middle
Where poltics now dwells
Meaning nothing for the masses
Just a pay day for the well-to-do
Well, do we care about the state of things is our own time
Or at any time gone by
That could have taught us how to die
With dignity
And live with honour
Let we meander pointlessly
Pointing at the pictures
And pretending they are feelings
As we stick them in the albums
For our kids' kids to be sick on
As they look back on our time
And wonder why we let it all
Fall to little pieces
That are sold straight back to us.