War Continued


3 – mind made up

I want my mind made up

so I flip between channels

different viewpoints

opposing sides say the exact same thing

which is closer to the truth

and which is merely closer to the facts


the facts seem to be these

no one knows

even in the minds of the liars

they are telling their truth


I don’t know which way to go

turn off the TV

turn off the world

blow out the stars one by one

with vengeance and retribution

an eye for a sigh

without a second thought

because second thoughts lead to hesitation

and I can’t afford to hesitate


it is up to me

to separate the real from the reality

to pluck the fact from the data

to make some sense

of sand kicked into eyes

the truth is in there

on a grain of sand

I have to find the right one


I want my mind made up

but don’t want to admit

how little I really know about what is going on

what I do know tells me

that even if either side gets their way

no one will be happy

even the winners are gripers

hands out for the warm compassion of money


I don’t want my mind made up

by facts data interviews

images of freshly self detonated teens

who knew what they wanted

they did it

left all this behind

for a dark fraction of the truth


I may not know which way to go

but I do know

I’ve made my mind up

I’m not going that way today


Another section that started with a phrase, this time ‘mind made up’ – the seductive notion that if I watch the right TV moment, read the right book, then I’ll have enough information to come to decision. It becomes increasingly impossible to do that based on the diverging facts we get bombarded with – of these ‘experts’ can’t agree, can’t come to a consensus, is it any wonder I end up confused and frustrated – which leads to ‘who gives a fuck.’


Around the time I wrote this suicide-bombers were appearing with devastating effect. I’d read that many of them where teenagers. I thought of myself as a teen, those floating years of trying to carve out an identity & could grasp how easy it would have been to fall under the ‘spell’ of a ideology that made such a heroic demand of me. Something that defined me with an absolute purpose so that I didn’t have to think at all. An ideology that made my mind up for me.


I wonder how many of those teens were really escaping cultural pressures. Girls who didn’t want to be forced into prearranged marriages, or boys with sexual longing for the boys in a society where that love could never be realized, to if was death would be the punishment if they were caught. Purification by self-sacrifice.


It gets fuzzy as to what the winners win – fighting for freedom – freedom to do what? ‘I fought this war for you, so you could be free but not for you to …. (fill in the blank)’ – freedom of speech?  I recently watched a show about clotheslines: Drying to be Free – in many sunny areas the USA it is illegal to dry clothing out doors! Not even on clothes racks. It’s considered ghetto, trailer park to use the sun to dry clothes, to opt not to waste electricity for an electric dryer. Americans may like individuality but they worship uniformity. Freedom? WTF.


Hey! Now you can give me $$$ to defray blog fees & buy more music – sweet,eh? paypal.me/TOpoet


November 1 – 30 Participating NaNoWriMo


November 18, Wednesday: judging at Hot Damn! it’s a Queer Slam – The Supermarket., Toronto


Like my pictures? I post lots on Tumblr



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