Chinese whispers at dawn.

I know I penned a post about nostalgia, and the toxicity of wishing to relive the past...Buuut I'm going back on that just this once.

Wouldn't it be nice if  instead of some Chinese whisper style form of argument that seems to be the norm now between groups of friends/colleagues/family members/everyone, we just lived like any general community prior to 1800.... Back then it was a case of:  Problem-Anger-Argument-Optional fight-Resolve. All out in the open, everybody has their say and there is closure. The best thing about this avenue was that come the morning of the day following the argument, everybody was as happy as could be with every body else, because there were no hidden feelings to provoke malice. It was Honest.

Or maybe even pistols at dawn? It didn't always end in the death of the loser, and there was a clear winner. There are indeed examples of contemporary disputes settled through means that with very little confusion result in a clear cut winner (and without the involvement of lawyers). Rock, Paper, Scissors any one? Drawing the short straw? An arm-wrestle? Now they might seem primitive and childish but in my humble opinion they'd sort a hell of a lot more problems out than this social espionage that is so prevalent.

It is frustrating because I know that I myself am particularly guilty of this pussy-footing around sore subjects, cowering away from confrontation and allowing resentment to build without any attempt at resolve. We as a society have become so scared and horrified by confrontation that the person who dares to  rebuke a rude pedestrian or an inconsiderate commuter is now seen as the rude one, the crazy one, the un-necessary trouble makers.

When it comes down to it, it seems we are all just too sensitive to deal with any affront to our general sitting on the fence approach to life.

This is a call for honesty, at the risk of being cut to shreds by a hundred devestating opinions on my personal character. But then I'm not scared.....Yeah right.

Peace.


Ps. The only reason I wrote this was to use the phrase 'Pussy-footing'. Pussy-footing.

The lost art.

Bring it back,
that light hearted greeting on a dark morning.

We need it back,
that unnecessary smile in the midst of a crowd.

Where did they go?
The words now held back from a future friend, lover or enemy.

How will we know?
When silence dominates every bus and train,
every park bench and post office queue.

The art is lost,
and the fear grips all. The conversationalist is made redundant.

We avert our eyes,
and forget that we have forgotten:

The art of conversation.

Peace.

Ps. I know the syntax is rubbish, but I thought why the hell shouldn't I try and write a poem.

Today

I sat on a bench today with an old man.

He mentioned the weather being fine and I agreed that it was. He asked me whether I was from here and asked what I was doing, I told him I am and that I was waiting. He said we're all waiting for something, I asked him what he was waiting for and he replied "well I'm waiting for death" with a chuckle. He asked me what I was waiting for, I said i was waiting for life, he nodded and went on his way.