Under Occupation *

The fly in my current employment
Is a tacit lack of deployment…
The Sitting Around With Nothing To Do
Like a lonely exhibit in Human zoo
Is really not my choice of task
Not that anyone would actually ask-
It’s simpler after all, I suppose,
To generally accept that nobody knows…
Which isn’t the way I’d choose to pass
The hours I’m paid for, sat on my *rse.
But what to do when nothing is clear?
-Apart from the sea view due south of here:
This 3D map of the local vicinity
Something I’m studying intimately…
I can almost see my house from here,
Somewhere west of the Brighton Pier,
With hours to go til my daily release
From stunning silence
To more purposeful peace.
But I digress…
This doing of less
(An exponential tedium)
Is not a happy medium:
There’s a limit to ways I might pass the time
The surreptitious writing of rhyme
Inevitably risking indiscretion
By dint of inevitable self-confession.
And there’s the conclusion,
A disillusion:
It’s me at fault in this, I feel…
A human hamster in need of a wheel.


*A bit of background research…





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