Ball Out Of Play

There’s a game that people play but I don’t get it;

it’s called take offence when none intent is there.

I’ve seen it all, enacted in my family,

with exes; dearest siblings pulling at their hair.

It’s a power sort of game that leaves a flavour;

a bitterness that tastes of dank decay,

when wealth of hate showers forth in spittle

but not for any words they had to say.

It’s for being who you are but they don’t like it;

like you’re happy and they can’t believe that’s real,

so the vitriol or silence seek to thwart it,

expunge the love, let crusty scabs not heal.

It’s a game I see in work and with companions,

as if life is just too easy so let’s fight;

a soap opera to my reality, really,

I don’t get it! How can this attitude resemble right?

Naivete has always been my virtue

and my vice as well, if truth be told at last;

I never comprehend that I’ve offended

for it’s the last thing that I’d seek, so always ask.

I’ll move my knight to your rook and I’ll ponder

the route to trap and check the king, no vice,

I’ll throw the dice and play the cards and wonder

if betting on the game is worth the hellish price.

I’ll move my dog and hope that I collect some

prize or fund for playing my game fair,

but changing rules, anarchic games that some love,

are way beyond the bet I’d ever dare.

There are bastards in this world, please don’t doubt it,

I know god loves them just as much as me,

but I decline to play the games they’re playing

and leave, I hope, with vestigial dignity.

I’ll watch from sidelines when my friends are challenged,

I’ll bite my tongue and pray for some control

but never when I see a bully smirking;

I’ll jump right in and save that goddamn goal.

The penalty of those who play this game; you know,

the one, where winners there are none, or broken souls,

is loneliness forever, never reaching,

destitute in spirit; fragmented whole.

Mindfuckery

You know the type.

Manipulative.

Loves to screw your brain.

Messes your mind any way they can find,

Is hurtful and cruel.

Then does it all over again.

 

It might be an ex or a current,

It could be a female

Or male,

It should be someone

You best, or ignore,

Then their mindfuck might fail.

 

It could be a boss

Or a neighbour,

A colleague who won’t give you rest.

Or kids in the ‘hood

Who just won’t be good.

Think what to do for the best.

 

It could be someone in your family

With an ex

Who’s really a prat.

Help make them see that his dick’s really wee,

Then you can both

Laugh about that.

 

It could be a friend

Who’s no friend at all,

Delights in bringing you down,

Dump them.

No one needs that crap,

A ‘friend’ who makes you feel like a clown.

 

Whoever they are

Remember your mind

Is yours, not a fairground pot luck.

Demand they desist,

Ignore if you wish

Or tell them you’re having no truck…

 

Ah, you thought that last line

Just had to rhyme

With ‘luck’ and a word I’ve used before.

Ok, then, we’ll say it again.

No mindfucking here.

Close that door.

 

My banter is intended as humour

But the message is one

To heed.

No one, not any, known past or in present,

Has the right to

Mess with your heid!

 

It could be someone

Whose words are no fun

Or actions are designed to convey

Ridicule, stress

Sadistic duress.

Don’t engage then they cannot play.

 

It might be yourself

Who’s the culprit,

Battering away at your brain.

Ego destroyed,

Validity void

Stop it! Don’t do it again.

 

A flower with filaments tender,

Seeking to bloom

Where it can,

Nurture your mind,

Stuff others who find

Pleasure in ruining elan.

 

Give what is due

But whatever you do,

Keep your mind well intact.

Those who insist

On taking the piss

Should know a couple of facts.

 

Spirit of self is a wonder

Shared,

A blessing two-fold,

But fucked with for fun

Is just not on.

Resist, persist, be bold.

 

It could be the politicians

Obvious I know,

That’s their art,

Assisted by media

And spin ,they begin

To screw your head and your heart.

 

Don’t fuck with my mind, you moron!

My head is my own!

Try that cheer.

Say it again till they believe it.

And then

Say it again, so you hear.

Video reading Mindfuckery