Purposes Poem by GRANT FRASER

Communication anywhichway

witchaway, thataway, a monstrous
tether, time for a breather, I don't
know what to say and so I write this away,

and look back up the line....

to make it sound like it really means,
something aye - eh! aye - ya!

like a kick in the place
that stirs me to this,

it's all going to end,
with all of us, some time at
some other point, in an oblivion
of something else or other,
maybe even now...

God I should have mended me,
or something,
oh empty universe full of so
much oblivious soup,

a gaseous halo for all
my bloody
incontrevertible thinking,

I like to cheat with a big word
I hardly know or ever use,
nothing I pull out my shallow
yet infinite pocket of the same,

No Gods or reasons for even breathing,
to eat until i cop it!

the aliens are not going
show before it's my turn,

the scorched tracks of a ship
that crashed somewhere in my head,

It's true we have to leave
the planet more often, just
to get a hint of what we are,

not much, glorious about heroes,
yet hungry and purposeless,
self effacing Faustians!

I mean are there any places
left to go in your head?

like try and buy yourself back...