The Greatest Freedom

The greatest freedom is yours and mine,
They do not want you to know it,
They do not want to realise it themselves.

They imagine that freedom is bullshit like speaking words,
So much meaninglessness.
They do not truly value their freedom,
Because they realise these acts are of themselves without value.

The greatest freedom,
The greatest choice,
The greatest power,
It is in your hands,
It is in mine.

Exercising this freedom,
This most precious of choices,
Can only be practiced once,
But is also practiced daily.

Try to appease yourself with speech,
Voting,
Residence,
Similar irrelevancies.

Some realise true freedom is in their own hands,
Always has been,
And –
Remains their greatest choice.

Gerald Lee Jordan
Diamond Harbour NZ
18 February 2013

Awesome is not

The papers today are filled with news,
of a Presidential Decree in the U.S. of A.
As of midnight tonight,
There will be no more “awesome” in the land of Uncle Sam.

It seems that this word has been overused,
Overspoken,
Has worn out its welcome on those shores.

Too lazy to consult a thesaurus –
“What is that?”, many ask.
Too uneducated to expand either the vocabulary or the mind,
The populace has been going around saying “awesome” in all circumstances.
From weddings,
To parties,
To ceremonies,
To academic events.

Debate rages over when this pest took hold in the vernacular of the people.
Credible sources say it gained prominence from lazy surfer lingo during the eighties.
Others say it was the term of choice of simplistic Republicans (which accounts for most of them).

The President has decided that the use of this term,
Carries a prison sentence.
This serves the dual purpose,
Of freeing the populace from “awesome”,
And helping to increase employment in the largest job place in America.

So, before midnight tonight, my fellow Americans,
get your awesome fix,
of most awesome usage,
in the most awesome proportions,
for as of tomorrow morning,
you will land in the most awesome jail,
and that will certainly not be awesome.

The President suggests that the citizenry become acquainted with a thesaurus,
Expanding our vocabulary beyond that of the average nine year old.
That will be all.
Awesome.

Gerald Lee Jordan
Diamond Harbour NZ
18 February 2013

Religion is

Religion is a fraternity joke,
From the boys at Bethlehem University.
Thought up over a goat-skin of wine,
A prank for the ages.

Religion is a trumped up charge,
From the town bike in Nazareth.
No idea who the father was,
So no sense claiming the noblest in town,
When you can blame god himself.

Religion is a tool of sadists,
With murderous Saul leading the pack.
No reason to look for work,
When with appeals to superstition,
You can live off the backs of slaves.

Religion is an appeal to the basest nature of man,
Who would rather be guided by fear,
By shame of self,
By hatred of others,
Rather than looking for the good,
Within and without.

Religion is the codification,
The sanctification,
The organisation,
The institutionalisation,
Of all that is weak,
Bitter,
Primitive,
And fearful in man.

Religion is a joke of the gods,
Who – if they existed – would be laughing,
Laughing,
Laughing,
At the gullibility of man.

Gerald Lee Jordan
Banks Peninsula NZ
17 February 2013

Never moved on

He tried to save his child from a sinking car,
Losing an arm in the effort,
But gaining a few last hours together,
In a dark and crowded hospital.
It was worth it,
He thought.

His wife couldn’t stand to look at him,
Even though the paramedics said no one could have saved the child,
She still despised him for not giving more.
Seeing the stump reminded her of failure,

In time they broke up,
As so many do,
Fading memories for her,
But clear ones for him.
All he had to do was look down at his empty sleeve.
And memories – good and bad – flooded back.
He cherished his stump,
It kept his memories alive,
And he knew pride in his love.

Some say he never moved on.

His friends tried to talk him into getting a plastic limb,
He couldn’t open beers on his own,
He couldn’t get a woman.
So many things would be easier.

Some say he never moved on.

Visiting his house one day,
His ex-wife,
The mother of his child,
Scoffed at the way he lived –
beer bottles everywhere.

She said he never moved on.

The day their child died,
He drove out in the rain,
Because she was too busy drinking with friends,
To pick the child up before the rain started.

She said he never moved on.

He finally managed to stay sober and get a job,
On a flight his plane went down over water.
He would have made it,
the rescue workers said,
but for that missing arm.

He never moved on.

Gerald Lee Jordan
Diamond Harbour NZ
15 February 2013

A Family Man

I entered his office early one Monday morning,
My feet swelling within these business shoes,
Designed not for comfort or even appearance,
But rather torture devices,
Cutting into my heels and binding my toes.

He smiled and stood,
Appearing to be at attention,
His smile pasted on,
I saw a semblance to a mannequin in the shop just passed.
He motioned that I should take a seat.

He began reading my resume,
As one would read a comic strip to a child.
I looked around his office,
To see certificates which could be bought and printed at home.
Photos of family,
Which seemed to be the ones used to sell frames.

The boredom was almost unbearable,
The attempts at communication forced.
He then said, “Are you a family man?”

“What the fuck is a ‘family man’?”,
I thought to myself.
I am a man,
I have a family.

“What is a family man?”, I asked,
With the straightest of faces.
He looked shocked,
With his chest collapsing.

“Perhaps you are not the sort of person we want!”
I responded that I would be happy to become a family man,
If it would help me land the job.

He sat at his desk,
Such a smug, little bastard.
I was sure his wife had never walked out on him,
Cuckold perhaps, but never aware.
He had his bored but dutiful wife,
A car full of kids,
Perhaps a campervan in the driveway,
For those idyllic family holidays.

He would live a few more years,
But his heart had already stopped.
Feeling so secure in his illusion,
He has forgotten to feel as another man.

If this is what his outdated concept of “family man” meant,
He could keep it,
Along with the menial job he offered and the one he held himself.

Gerald Lee Jordan
Diamond Harbour NZ
15 February 2013

The Perfect Woman

He met her at seventeen.
She promised to love him forever,
Then promptly disappeared.

He met her at twenty.
She proceeded to fill his life with boredom
and demands for pity.

He met her at thirty.
She decided that fidelity didn’t exclude friends
and he stayed home to watch the kids.

He met her at fifty,
Or so she said.
Fuck this shit,
I am better off alone,
Than to put up with continuous mental games,
Just for a bit of friction against my cock.

He now lives alone,
In a small place,
Where there is peace.
No demands for recognition,
No demands for compliments,
No fucking mind games to help settle emotional states.
One coffee cup in the cupboard,
Peace throughout.

Sure, he might not be found for days after death,
But that is a small price to pay for peace now.
If only he could tell that seventeen year old boy,
What he knows now.

The perfect woman is with him now,
sitting in the empty chair across from his morning coffee.

Gerald Lee Jordan
Diamond Harbour NZ
15 February 2013

Don’t be afraid

Don’t be afraid,
It is coming for you,
It is coming for me.

It is the best friend you will ever have,
It will not lie to you,
It will not desert you,
It will not leave you in your time of need.

Feel it?
Feel its breath on your neck?
Feel its cold hand on your back?
It is very near now,
Watching you,
Waiting.

Taking pride in your accomplishments,
Laughing at your vanity.
It knows you better than you know yourself.
It has always been there.

You have sensed it on occasion,
Felt it looking into you,
Felt a chill down your spine.

It is coming for you,
Coming for me.
Take joy in its attentions.
Take joy in its affections.
It is coming.
It will never forget.

Take joy.
Relax into it,
Until it is too late.
Enjoy its cold embrace.

Gerald Lee Jordan
Diamond Harbour NZ
13 February 2013

An electronic world

Sucked into a port,
binary bleeds into our brains,
thinking in boolean.

First knowing what we seek,
Then telling our preferences to machines,
Finally told what we desire.

A toy becomes a helpful device,
A helpful device becomes a necessity,
A necessity becomes a part of our biological and pyschological makeup.
Where do we stop and the world we have created begin?

Something we knew nothing about so recently,
Now the cornerstone of our thoughts, our social lives, our economies.
A very interesting toy,
The next step in our evolution,
Whether we desire it to be so,
or not.

Gerald Lee Jordan
Diamond Harbour NZ
12 February 2013

Working Backward

Evolution is bullshit,
If you have a simplistic view of moving “forward”.
Devolving is the way of humanity,
Excluding those who can pursue an education.

Going into the shop,
Paying for something,
Staff can’t make change.
Addition and subtraction beyond the means of adults.

One pumps petrol,
Another goes to university.
One has a baby as a child,
Another has first child at thirty-five.

Dad went to university,
Son pumps gas.
Mother was an accountant,
Daughter works a cash register.

The “modern” world wants workers,
The modern world needs workers,
The modern world needs cheap labour in shitty jobs,
It might as well be you.

Not everyone can be a doctor,
Not everyone can be an accountant.
Not everyone can be a lawyer.
The system needs shit workers
and it is good for the system that many lack the initiative,
to do more than clean tables and toilets.

They taunt you with the bullshit idea that you can do anything,
But really only want you to be the cheap labour which keeps them on top.

Don’t try,
Don’t have a dream,
Don’t think beyond the next paycheck,
The next big screen television,
The next six pack of watered down beer.

Stay in your slumber,
Soon you will be dead and it won’t matter.

Gerald Lee Jordan
Diamond Harbour NZ
12 February 2013

The Graveyard Shift

Fifteen years old and a waitress,
working the late shift,
so her parents can watch the sleeping baby.
Beautiful but filled with sorrow,
Given up on anything better.

She opened her legs,
When she should have opened her mind.
A few minutes on her back,
And she will spend the rest of her life on her feet.

Truckers,
Paedophiles,
Sadists,
Bums,
She will grow to be an adult,
With such to influence her.

I pity her,
Find her attractive too,
I could use her like the others,
But I am only fourteen
and not ready for the world she has entered.

Years later, I reflect back on this beautiful and tragic child,
Trying to imagine who she has become,
Those stupid enough to believe that all have equal opportunity,
Have neither made enough bad choices themselves,
Nor been the benefactor of those mistakes by others.

Gerald Lee Jordan
Diamond Harbour NZ
11 February 2013