Oblivion

A new poem today – from a forthcoming publication without a title as yet. It’s the fourth sequence of poems about a character called Blue. The first one was written way back in 1985. You could say this character has not let me go:

—–

“Alone is the only way to be” thinks Blue
Misanthropic in his black jeans and rock tour T-shirt

Every time he holds the audience at this party, speaks out as though it’s a crowd,
someone finds an excuse to leave the group

He can’t see the connection, wants to rant about the election
like some rabid poet with nothing to do but squeeze the views of people

In time, he will leave, drunk and ill at ease, head for home
thinking as he passes these darkened streets, “What could have been”

Time passes, alone now in his room, hotel of convenience that no-one knows
He thinks, he could die and no-one would know he was here

How long would his body lie and atrophy before he was found –
especially with a “do not disturb” sign on the door

And he is not sure whether he feels good about this, or filled with horror
the thought of oblivion, of nothing, no consciousness, nothing.

Emptiness is a feeling that comes before epiphany, he read that somewhere
he sits and waits, wonders when it will come…

A great state of magnanimity, he read that too
all bound in a need for meaning, let go and out to the furthest boundaries.

Beyond the sense of purpose there are boundless worlds,
lost in the shadowy reaches of a conscience.