Dear Jeremy Clarkson
Dear Jeremy Clarkson
This is my letter for showing myself to be thankful for being on benefits
First of all I’d like to thank the DWP
for making it so easy to claim
It really really isn’t degrading or a pain
supplying copious amounts of evidence
Or getting my friends to help fill out forms every few years for health conditions that don’t go away or can’t be cured.
Society its self doesn’t add stigma or prejudice or pressure or any way to claim these monetary benefits.
I love being supported and in no way does it induce any fearful reaction or discomfort or distraction to see articles such as yours Jeremy. It feels great to be treated like a scrounger who is undeserving of a life of disability.
Yes I do have abilities that are prized by society. And have protested against cuts to Pip and other benefits. Which the people of this land of course understand how hard they are to claim. Sometimes PIP is the only thing that allows people who are disabled the adaptions and ability to work.
On a personal note I hear voices and have to mask my autism on a daily basis. I feel my life isn’t worth it sometimes. But I do like to grovel to people like you. Who did it your way and didn’t have to deal with the same situation as mine.
I know you shine like a beacon to all of those who are not as deserving as yourself.
Yes I have fallen on hard times since 16 and have tried to work part time.
I know society doesn’t make it feel like a crime to live with my struggles. I know in this life so many care about my plight. And know the reality of my fight and struggle.
But when we the disabled people have been forced to live on the streets or are put into institutions and workhouses because of the grace of people like you. And you become disabled yourself and need help which is unlikely I do agree. Maybe you will see life isn’t as easy as you make out.
So thank you to the unpaid carers who support people in my situation.
Thank you to the NHS staff who or anyone who is kind and willing to help.
Thank you to all the people who improve my quality of life by reading my poetry and writing which is an out let for my dark feelings and thoughts when I am caught feeling melancholic and suicidal. You are all stars shining your bright light on my life.
There’s nothing natural about this love
We breathe smiles and similarly we simmer
In summer heat
play plastic Spotify tunes on repeat
there’s nothing natural about this love
we hear those songs in sugar, in saccharine smiles all the while telling ourselves it’s love
we bleed deep, weep, scream in our voices
in our souls for love
manufactured and distracted by love
to feel love but it’s over engineered
fanatical sycophants
who pant and swoon
but this love is more in line with the tomb
There’s nothing natural about this love
that has to be earned burned in our hearts.
real love just is it’s more natural than nature
and it is love
flowing free
not a trap for you and me
Word soup
I am a fork in a world of soup
a scout without a troop
a landline phone in a world of mobiles
a voicemail speed dial
a punchline which is a slow poke
a old bloke surrounded by stylish gits
a thong in a world of bras and tits
Facebook without the pictures
selfies at the right angle
a pen in a tangle
a stranger in a crowd
nuff said not loud
a cuppa tea in world of coffee
a defenceless toffee
in a world of chocolate biscuits
don’t risk it or me
cause i am too different
a black sheep in a world of white
a short skirt in a world of jeans
a nightmare in a world of dreams.
you may look
you may stare
but i am the unknown
you have to find me a home.
I used to be a messenger
I used to be a messenger
Now I am known as vermin or a pest
I used to deliver messages
To battle fields or other countries without a rest
now little children chase me until I fly
abandoned by the system without knowing the reasons why
Technology usurped my position
I was domesticated with precision
but now people view me as a flying rat
they have no use for me
I am redundant
de funked
lost my role
just another useless obsolete creature
in this creature feature film that is life.
The price of the future
Exist in the existential
the crisis governed by tech giants and moguls
quantum computing
rooting for data
Something that hates you and
our essence
more despised than a unlucky pheasant
about to be killed
we are the working class poor and disabled
checkmated in the game and despised because we are mentally ill
In the wrong way
depressed and anxious
rather than Sadomasochists with a superficial superiority complex
who sit with the latest tech
in their mansions
taking their chances all too soon
from us and causing us gloom
entering our digital tomb
where there’s no room
for our slave driven mindset ways
other than to serve the corporations and billionaires
the ones who say empathy is death and decay
and pray for our demise
hit with no surprise
this is the price we pay
for our dystopian future
no one wants
hidden by computer fonts
and AI
our overlords
who hoard wealth and knowledge like weapons
and fuck us with digital strap ons.
The worlds a friend who doesn’t care
The world is a friend who doesn’t care
The worlds a friend who doesn’t care
sitting with a drink in hand in their underwear
the worlds a friend who won’t ask
how you are, for fear of being taken to task
the worlds a apathetic snob
who treats you like a knob
and drives you round the bend
and then pretends they don’t
like a narcissist who gaslights you every time they talk
I am sorry but all they do is squawk the loudest
and the proudest
the worlds a crowd who can’t remember your name
or all that you overcame to be here.
The worlds a computer game stage
that makes you want to rage quit
but you feel like a blue tit
wanker
cranking it up to the giga watts
but there is a power outage
the worlds a woman who you like
but never get to speak to
she’s beautiful
but she’s seems to see through you
The worlds is a beautiful game
but the football you play is rubbish a shameful
sham
when your name is…
The worlds a racket
trying to make a wage packet
but all you do is stack it
As in fall
when you try to walk tall
and wise
but you are always met with phoney surprise
I am sure this poem could go on
forever
but it was written for those like me who like to be tethered to their therapist
I am sure there’s a clever answer somewhere
but maybe the hecklers won’t speak
they been waiting here all day for me to take it in the cheek.
Friends with menefits
Sometimes having a man in your life brings menefits
sometimes it’s no good at all
It all depends on the man
can you find a men that fits
or does he have to be over 6 foot tall?
Does he have a huge credit card allowance
or a great credit score?
does he have to be athletic have geek chic or have to have it all?
When is a man good enough?
does he have to be strong and tough?
does he have to have wisdom?
or his own kingdom?
what does it take to be a man at all?
does he have to be part beast
that you can tame?
have a great reputation and great name
a exciting persona?
or degree or diploma?
or a nice aroma?
A sense of humour?
or be a grade A gardener who is bloomer
Of plants and flowers?
or a sporty athlete?
or muscle man?
my nickname is stan
I don’t understand
What makes a good man I think is how you treat other people but maybe that just a good human being
There are many archetypes of being a man
I just am.
but I don’t fit the archetypal men who fits.
Going Critical
Competition amongst friends
Surely you want your friends to succeed?
but competition taints the scene
of our dreams
and we scheme
in jealous ways
hoping to better our friends
that we sometimes dislike
I wish I wasn’t always last
mitigating circumstances cast
me into what seems like last place
a friendly face.
I wish kind strangers weren’t kinder than our friends
I wish I knew the forest I belong in from the trees
because I know my blood bleeds like sap
and I hate to be made to feel like crap
by competitive friends
or those who compete or compare
we are all on a journey
to our eventual destination
but a bit of kindness and compassion wouldn’t go amiss
or a hug or maybe even a kiss…