Gareth's Writing pages

This page contains...

Various short stories and poems (songs without music). Few if any are in their final draught.
Contents:
  1. I wonder why (poem)
  2. Dusty (poem)
  3. Zim '92 (essay)
For Other bits that have'nt made it anyware else yet see my Graffitti wall




I WONDER WHY?

I wonder why?
I wonder why?
I wonder why?
I wonder why?
I wonder why?
The busier you are the busier you get
Yet time and money seem mutually exclusive

Why some things are - and some things aren't
Some can , some can't
Some do , some don't
Some will , some won't

SOMEONE

Can you?
Do you?
Will you?
Are you?

SOMEONE

Am I ?
I wonder why?


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DUSTY

Now Dusty is a happy dog
Friendly as can be
He lives with a friend of mine
But he's slightly silly see
He runs inside the house with a grin from ear to ear
And when you tell him 'footsac dog'
He just doesn't seem to hear

Now I got a dog in my face
With a big wet tongue
I got a dog in my face
Excited like he's gonna cum
I got a dog in my face
I try to keep him away
But he's in my face , in my face
Right here in my face


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ZIMBABWE 1992

Sitting on a rock watching the lights come on as the sun sets over my childhood town , it brought no peace as it used to.
True I was younger then, but the silent majesty of the few clouds holding the last of the sun, the warm breeze rustling the bush, the cowbells ringing in the distance accompanied by the whistles of infanes, the call of the nightjar did little to soothe my frustration.

I had spent the heat of the day in the city, dealing as carefully as I could with this insane beaurocracy, where unless error is found it's created at the citizens expense and laughter remembered only in it's rarity.
The land is untouched, relativly, but woefull are its people. When I returned from abroad most of my school aquaintences had left, as I had, whilst the few who had remained appear resentfull, almost (if not) hostile to my return.

I feel no guilt, no loyalty, just a deep regret toward what has become a cesspit of corruption and greed. I returned with big ideas benefit not only myself but the community I thought I knew - I admit defeat, now I would like to leave as soon as possible and even that is barred to me, unless I leave everything of worth behind, but that's the whole scam - FUCK THEM, but it's actually I who feel raped. I'm one of the lucky ones who left, so on my return the corruption was clearly visable, of those who stayed out of choise there are those that are blinkered by the hope that things will improve, (these are mostly the elderly whose lives work was invested in Zimbabwe) and those (by far the majority) who are blinkered by greed.

The rot starts at the top and in time everything becomes tainted, and where corruption rules it breeds. There is no love except for power, ther is no joy in peoples eyes - they first size up, then plead, then avoid further dealings unless there's more to be had. This may be the same everywhere but not to the same extent. I feel as if it's my fault I am who I am, and although I'm no-one special I try to be - maybe that's the dividing line.

I grew up here htis is where my roots should be but I moved out before I could bloom, now I am become a tree they want to fell me for firewood and accuse the stump of not providing shade...

I left before that ax fell.


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Gareth Sherwood