Straws And The Clutching At Them Poem by Gary Diamond

What if when you clutch at straws you pick the short one.
What if when you pull it out, it was attached to the needle.
When you smiled, laughed a little
At the sudden turn of events.

All these old sayings and wives tales cancel each other out
As if they were the deleted lines of the Bible.
So much for straws and clutching at them
So much for the misguided fools called men.

The truth is something we all tried to bury
Like the dog and his immortal bone
Like the other dog staring at the gramaphone.
We have to wake up, realise
That although this planet supports life
There is no form and vague function to it
No pattern it adheres.

Art tries to explain this in abstract, weird ways
Television trivialises every issue like a petulant child
The acquisition of wealth and power is what many want
Many have and don't care much about
Others will never have
Dying instead in a far off desert.

Love is a great way of blinding and dulling the senses
Love, combined with drugs and trash culture
Is Marx's opiate of the masses
But not mine, hopefully not yours
Let's go for something more realistic
If something exists
And isn't another straw to clutch and hold.

The universal truth is death, pain and rebirth
The universal myth is we peacefully co-exist.
Easier to see and understand this when someone
Lets you down
Gives up on you
Leaves you dying in the gutter
The rain pissing down on you.