Gagging Order [poem]

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A hand is firmly clamped upon this mouth.
From now on everything’s an overshare!
I’ll say no more about the undeclared
directions of this world or controversies
which swirl and curl themselves like snakes
round every lighthouse groping mind.
I think from this time forth
I’ll stick to posting images of cats
and little dogs which look like rats
or coffee draped in foam shaped like a heart
or duck-face fotos taken of my mates and me
while cruising at some party taking ecstasy
or maybe of my hero dad on Fathers’ Day
(guaranteed to wring some tears along the way)
or maybe I’ll announce a life event
for instance me linked to some hapless chick
“In a relationship” displayed upon my page
with pride (who cares if one month later
that “relationship” will quietly have died!)
or exhibit endless “selfies” from a lousy cam
— all of which will look the same
and never show me how I really am.
On some of these I’ll stick my tongue out
with a gargoyle grimace of the damned
or pretend to be some metalhead
or member of an ancient band
like Ozzie or that bloke from Kiss
the first and little pinkies raised on both my fists
a gothic mortal risen from the dark abyss
tattooed with satan’s face and pentagrams.
I’ll never let you see my belly or my ass
as both would witness all my bonus kilograms.
I’ll only proffer pictures taken aeons ago
before the years played havoc with my status quo.
In short, I promise not to make you feel uneasy
troubled or distressed and from now on
there’ll no more be such controversial views expressed
or any nasty thing which might make you depressed.
Instead I guarantee to make you blessed
with pics I’ve gathered from the net
depicting angels or some mythic creatures
haunting worlds you’ve never seen —
there’ll be so many that you’ll be hard pressed
to find a single one of me among
these captured shots from other galaxies!
Perhaps I’ll witter on about how energised
my chakras are or how enlightened I’ve become
attaining higher consciousness
and making loads of dough
through running spirit aura workshops
(funny how some people always have to crow
about their mastery of inner Ki
and various insubstantiated energies).
Furthermore, I’ll make sure only positive
and happy stuff comes from this pen.
My head I’ll bury in the sand and never take a stand
on any truthful human principle again.
No more will feeling poems flow onto this profile
from my heart. From now on I’m a fartist and
my artistry has died along with my integrity —
the greenery has dried, conscience lost in fratricide
lively vigorous debate I now declare has putrified.
Will you now finally be undisturbed and satisfied?

© Alan Morrison, 2013

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