Office Tweeter Socially Benchmarking

Ah, the way the wind blows

Matters not to men in offices insulated

But ask the fisherman casting his net on the soul grating sea

Or the red cheeked child with ebullient eyes

To whom the parade of kites portrays a world of rainbow possibility.

Ah, the comma. Just a squidgy dot, waste of space

Matters not to the frenetic tweeter

But ask the teacher who commits her life

To a generation

Who’ll either plant trees or start fires,

Depending on whether they had enough time

To, for reflection, pause.

Ah, the pen marks on the wall

Scars on the beautiful flower pattern

To the Joneses.

For the mother, a reminder timeless of days innocent

Before Responsibility’s wings

Flew her young from the nest.

Hamish Kamoshi ©2015

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Propagandist Chauffeurs

Not much time left to prevent your mind’s theft

smash and grab out there, it’s a crime fest

like strong winds they want to hurry Kane

to slay his own brother so the money’s gained

anaesthetic in the air they are numbing brains

taking food off the table only crumbs remain

with rich man’s greed every slum is stained

find a scapegoat, who do you wanna blame?

the sick and disabled and the immigrants?

politicians making criminals out of innocents

stealing with prosthetic hands, avoiding fingerprints

we’ve lost sight of truth cos we’re in the midst

of propagandist chauffeurs, driving us to nightmares

shutting schools down, opening Starbucks there

caffeine overload; no sleep so no dreams

of a future where every child sings instead of screams

Hamish Kamoshi © 2014

Justice In Progress

 

Shut down the markets, nationalise the banks

Light up the darkness, end capitalist pranks

Blindfold the bankers, make ‘em walk planks

For too long we’ve been dead fish in their tanks

 

Pig heads on monkey bodies, pissing blood on the poor

Build their castles in the sky and our graves in the sewer

March to the door of power, camp day and night

And with the ink of revolution a new constitution write:

                       No more bombs and no more wars to which to send ‘em

For every new law a digital referendum

Basic income for all guaranteed

All debt liquidated, all political prisoners freed

No more fossil fuel, renewables instead

No more corporations giving MPs financial head

No more five years terms, no more squeezes on salary

And the total abolition of the Royal Family

Hamish Kamoshi © 2014

Say No To Economically Modified Art

No artist bankers

No artist management consultants

no artist frackers

More Artist Taxi Drivers

More artist youth workers

More artist nurses

More artist cleaners

Row calm on the waves of your insomnia

and paint the picture the stars stay lit 

for your inner eye to see

and each thunderous vibration of every gentle

brush stroke

we the masses will feel

guiding us

into each other’s embrace.

Hamish Kamoshi © 2014

Giving Up

I can’t cope with the fact I can’t cope

can’t feel the numbness I can’t feel

can’t hide the pain I can’ t hide

but

 I hope one day I’ll have hope.

 I’m holding on to barbed wire

to stop the razors of resentment

from cutting, bleeding me dry;

banging my head against a wall

to prevent my skull from fracturing,

jumping off a cliff to stop myself

taking my own life.

Sorrows never drown

because Memory is too fucking good at resuscitation.

I dig myself a hole

because I’m split in half

one way up, one way down

in-between a smile and frown

nothing to verb, just a hollow noun.

Burning my flesh to keep from feeling

that incinerating chill

crawling within my cells 

sucking out my will.

Still I stand on a rotating circle,

 always at square none,

giving up always,

always getting started never.

At the end of the old rope’s last thread

I’ve given up on everything,

even giving up itself.

There is, then, nothing left to do

but try one more time.

Hamish Kamoshi © 2014

A Piece of a Peace of Mind

Any chance I can find a piece of a peace of mind

by entering inside of yours?

Will a smile let me in, let’s start a conversation

take me deep, not just around your contours

I’m talking to me, but I’m not listening

too busy eavesdropping on the chatter of the glistening

well to do ones who seem to have it all figured

 by every word they say my insecurities are triggered

Any chance I can find a piece of a peace of mind?

If I dig inside with thoughts of wisdom?

If I unplug myself from the system?

If I look below, if I look behind?

Might I find a piece of a peace of mind?

All I ask is for a quarter, I’d even take a third

of that serenity you see in the gliding birds

A piece of peace-just one wing of a dove

even just one feather will keep my faith in Love

A piece of peace; appease my patience before it peters out

A piece of peace: I ask with peace, please-don’t make me shout

Hamish Kamoshi © 2014

(Previously published as Sulphur Petals)