Whatever: The Money Shot

Whatever: The Money Shot: Like fake superheroes they would swoop Down onto the chaos Into the bedlam Mingling and befriending those with tales to tell Not saving ...

The Money Shot

Like fake superheroes they would swoop
Down onto the chaos
Into the bedlam
Mingling and befriending those with tales to tell
Not saving waving damsels
Distressed and torn
Teary eyed and breathless
But the raw produce of a brand new tragedy
Thrusting mikes against mouths
Lenses against lenses
That's what will guarantee
The money shot

Sniffing new orphans are prime fodder
And those blood stained soldiers with red shot eyes
Men carrying babes in burnt arms from flaming buildings
Hardly a dry eye
Their saviour
A hero
A front page icon
Something to remember the incident by

News readers all chiselled and waxy cross over to the correspondent
Who, also remarkably well groomed given the situation and often high temperatures
Will wheel out some know all or dignitary or important eye witness or even a politician if they're lucky
To give us their take
To look grim and determined
To apportion blame
To name and shame
And say heads will roll

We sit as still as stone sunk into our chairs
Drinks in hand and maybe even a snack or two
Not bearing to look away incase we miss atiny bit
Of the misery and hardship
Of the plight
And the fear
And them running from their hell to the cameras
To freedom
Or imprisoment of the media
That will take them as their own
And use them and squeeze them and bleed them dry
To ensure
That bombings or blasts or fires or murders or kidnap or anything that will make us sit up and look

Will always have the money shot

Whatever: Wrung Dry

Whatever: Wrung Dry: So I really never knew what to expect from it all However, I'd made grand plans you see I’d written lists I’d gone to classes I&#3...

Wrung Dry

So I really never knew what to expect from it all
However, I'd made grand plans you see
I’d written lists
I’d gone to classes
I'd packed a bag with items that I would never ever need
And to the older and the wiser I’d taken great heed
I'd read the glossy manual
The one with ectstatic and elastic ladies ready to go forth and multiply
Graphic pictures of how I would look to the end of bed hoverers
down below
A girl or a boy?
My bundle of joy
I was going to be a mother

Whitewashed walls and the vaguely comforting aroma of chemicals
And crying and screaming
That’s what greeted me on my arrival
Officious nurses in greens and blues
All stood in rows
And oh so detached as they’d seen it all before,
Others of my kind
Oh I was nothing new, dear
I was merely the next one on their production line



The pain relief and implements to administer were offered
On paper clothed trollies a dazzling array, a glimmering tray
For me to greedily snatch some respite
No soothing music
No special breathing techniques for me tonight
And as I opted for my drug of choice
And as the needle crunched between each vertebrae
And the sweet fluid pumped soothingly into my spine
And as I squeezed my eyes tight onto a distant spot in my mind
I didn’t visibly wince and I didn’t wonder how
The hell I would get through this
‘It would soon be over’
‘Not much longer now’

Then came the animal from within
More of a horse than a stork
Thundering over that hill, getting closer and then retreating
Returning again seconds later
Teasing me
Each frantic gasp on the mask
Easing me
Into that basic instinct to expel
According to all present
And the graphs and ever watchful monitors
I was ‘doing really well’


The last stages were surprisingly quite painless
It was a relief to finally let go of it
To see what I had hosted for the last 280 days
To see if we had the same eyes
The same hair
The same shaped fingers
Anything at all that would connect me
To this perfect pink scrap
Thrust onto my lap
Stretched against my damp chest as I lay back on that bed
Each assessing the other
For what lay ahead

And afterwards we were wheeled together
To be with the others
That had done just as I’d done
It would appear that the greens and blues were right
And I was not the only one
There was now this small mewing mite
And I was no longer the centre of my world
We exchanged stories
Each one trying to outdo the other
With horror and gore
And who had hurt more
And our little parcels lay there
Ripe ready and new
For us to take away
And make of them all that we would wish of ourselves too

Whatever: Him and Hymns

Whatever: Him and Hymns: So let me tell you this my sweet I always had my god It was always there Someone I couldn't see Tapping at my back Po...

Him and Hymns

So let me tell you this my sweet

I always had my god

It was always there

Someone I couldn't see

Tapping at my back

Poking softly at my conscience

But it was never more than me

 

 

But still, I was sucked into circles

Of responsible adults

The hysteria

The joyous tears

And then there came

The praying

 and  the laying

 on of hands

And for me?

Well, if truth be told, I never shed one tear

 

I would read the book

And good old  VHS and BETAMAX  would be trundled out

So I could watch the rejoicing throngs in action

And then there was the clapping

And I would feel slightly humiliated

And even more sad

Because I never felt

The euphoria

That all the others had

 

Tongues whispered in languages unknown

Did it comfort me

Did it warm my heart

Did it fill my soul

With assurances of salvation and afterlife

Eternal bliss

Not damnation

For a child

Looking for the answers that I could never hope to find

 

Of course there was the official outlets

Where we could see it all done

Properly

Majestically

Pomp, circumstance and no smiles

Just half empty pews of punters

Dusty old aisles

Getting their Sunday fix

And assuring themselves

That during that hour of him and hymns

They’d more than  done their bit

 

Musty old halls and energetic ladies

With colourful hats

Would entice us to beetle drives

Social events and dances

No touching or dalliance but good clean fun

For us soon to be adults

With our fresh open minds

Open pages

Just ripe for the writing

Of their doctrines

 

I made my escape in favour of general  teenage pursuits

The devil didn’t appear by side

Nor by my bed at night

I didn’t get cancer

I wasn’t injured in some freak newsworthy accident

Maimed beyond recognition

I haven’t suffered

Any unique personal tragedy

I am still here

And so is he

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Whatever: Auschwitz

Whatever: Auschwitz: AUSCHWITZ Auschwitz 11- Berkenhau was designated by Reichsfuhrer-SS Heinrich Himmler, The Third Reich's Minister of the Interior, a...