I’ve become an addict, I live for each moments high, aggressive requirements once locked in, a never ending desire for that bubble of comfort that beautiful moment, of life.
“I don’t care, I’ll see you in court!”
Now on trial, for this contention. The Judge declares this addiction unruly, arrogant, wild. He states disdainly with flair, as the court listens to the crimes of my heart.
I stand to defend my self and watch who stand on my behalf. In my defence I have courage, poetry and love.
The prosecution has fast cars, suppurating contracts, champagne breakfasts and has, of course the right address and a good chance an empty bed at night!
I, have my addiction.
Blissful forgetfulness, melting troubles, blankets of warmth against the lonely cold nights.
The prosecution lays the cost as the first point of attack.
I stand in the dock, my shoes absent as evidence, as I gaze at my worn feet, I see souls of the travelled path.
The Judge looks on with a judgemental eye and declares forth,
“Unlike most of us, who study and work hard, they suddenly acquire wealth”
His head dismissing me, as I hold my eye. In reply
“I have worked hard.”
As I hear my words on radio dials with my tunes being whistled down streets, sharing my heart with every soul I meet. A juke box on feet, with every teenagers fingered request, played.
The legislation of the human soul is not made by the lazy mind. The judges’ words hurt, notching up the faith of my belief.
I have no defence to a states onslaught. My character witnesses are not allowed as their presence is incriminating of sorts. Shadows from the dark corners of all our minds.
My actions have an escape goat tied to the feat of my addiction. I am a poet, a singer of my soul and a troubadour of life. Strangers pass for a happy moment of libertine freedom. So a judge seeing his own son’s path, sentences me harsh to six months inside.
Now my body is locked away. Incarcerated, in lesson of my minds display. I’ll dream and while away my caged days. The revulsion at my free form. The act of expression pursued as criminal disjorne.
The Republic shall have none of these Albion Knights. Deemed spreading narcissistic delight, their honesty of life defies our lies of truth.
The words of the song stand strong the belief being what a waster, the uneconomic viability, brogues not nailed to the corporate escalator, defying bland anonymity, the right to wake at 10 at night.
And might ye wonder what addiction has incarcerated this journey? The never ending exploratory nature of life and learning. So time with murderers, paedophiles, criminal hands and injustice minds, the state can define the edge of my kind and pass judgement on the state of my mind.
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