living

Callum Featherstone

Existential Colours

Feeling blue

the gloaming dusk

envelops

me

cloaking my every attempt

to twist and turn

and every intent to learn; opaquely.

Feeling red

sky at night – Shepherd’s delight?

Or a rage deep inside – unevening.

Incandescent

but ever present and waiting,

waiting for the time to strike;

a clock

with fiery hands that yearn

to make this whole system

burn

eternally to the ground.

Feeling green

mentally bilious

cognitively all at-sea

desensitised

to the obscene

filled with so many

thoughts, feelings and disinformation

but alas unable to scream

unable to tell what is real.

The propaganda machine vomits more lies…

“You’re ill. Do as you’re told and stop asking questions.”

With a punch, a jab

it puts to bed freedom’s dream.

You snooze, you lose.

Sickening to the extreme.

Felt yellow

once upon a

sun beam

that cushioned joy of unmarshalled

mellow;

sun shining sweetly

summer breeze

vanilla ice cream

a happy, smiling, unbridled fellow until

The Neo Nightmare

becomes a novel series

out of

what was once

a magazine.

Callum Featherstone

Scattered Scions

And as that outward blowing breath

scatters floating seeds of dandelions

my thoughts of birth and life and death

coalesce among the scattered scions.

For what is now has always been

and will return from future passing –

the sight of what remains, unseen;

your loss – not lost – but everlasting.

This life has now come to a close

and we reminisce on all your giving

a beacon bright bursts through morose

your shining light that lifts our living.

As we send you on your next new journey

we cherish those fond memories

we take a clutch and grasp them firmly

where you live on; in our reveries.

Callum Featherstone

What is ‘this’?

“If you are the big tree, let me tell you that

We are the small axe, sharp and ready

Ready to cut you down (well sharp)

To cut you down” – Bob Marley

Maybe we wouldn’t have to worry

about this dystopia or Thought Police

if we’d paid attention and weren’t in a hurry

protected our rights and thought of peace

made sure that every little boy and girl

had their freedoms unequivocally ingrained

in an uncodified constitution of the world

that wouldn’t commodify their names,

their games, their chats, their brains

wouldn’t commodify their friendships

wouldn’t commodify in exchange

for our chance to ever end;

this.

This; globalist

end of days.

This; oval disk

of human waste.

This; cashless

new society.

This; ask less

pay more, die early.

This; ‘how much

more can you take?’

This; smiling punch

you in the face.

This; ‘whatever’

disillusionment.

This; forever

can’t afford the rent.

This; take a pill

to ease the pain.

This; makes you ill

over again.

This; wants your life

to be a mess.

This; gives more strife,

more bills, more stress.

This; is worse in every single way.

This; works you til your dying day.

This; takes much

more

than pounds of flesh.

This; doesn’t need

your

excuse for less.

This; what happened

to our fledgling crop?

This happened…

We ‘the many’

never forced

‘the few’ powerful to

STOP.

Callum Featherstone

Envy

I’ve seen a man

so consumed by envy

that his jealous heart consumed

his mind

his soul

and everything

he ever could be.

When you covet another’s life,

success,

belongings or

in this case wife –

you become a bitter container

filled with green bilious

acrimony

spending hate-filled hours

to keep that bubbling

poison on retainer.

They say it is better to have loved and lost

but if you have never loved at all –

have you even lived?

No star-crossed

lover or Shakespearean romance,

no first kiss let alone first dance..

Just a sad excuse for actions

that are always centred on a loss

you never had

and a sense of selfish pity

that leaves a feeling of disdain

because

inside you’re left

wondering what it really feels like

and where the chance to grasp a real love

ever

really

once

was.

And, as that green bilious acrimony

bubbles away in its container

it eats away at what is lonely

and devours the remainder.

Leaving nothing but dysfunction –

a stab-wound without a knife –

leaving nothing but destruction

in what was once a living life.

Callum Featherstone

Sheltered Hell

Claustrophobia;

casting spells, anxiety obeah

feeling trapped in a shell

a gleaming pearl

trapped in a cell

of another’s designer

hell

waiting for the pool to whirl

me down

again.

The heat and the wet

make a vitriolic garnish

causing what once gleamed – jet

to now become tarnished.

Agoraphobia;

crowded house – residential dystopia

all the faces look the same

painting misery – drawing blanks

always strange and often insane

that’s what happens to your brain

when you’re trodden on like wooden planks

and spoken to just the same

you become a broken, wooden frame

a shell without a pearl

a face without a name

and when you push the system yanks

until there’s nothing left to say.

Until there’s nothing.

Nothing.

..

Callum Featherstone

Rescue

You are a pathway strait

unlike your last mistake

and mistakes are learning curves;

they aren’t your overall fate.

You have your being

but their eyes aren’t seeing

what goes on inside

of your mind as it’s fleeing.

Steady your ship

sail yourself to equip

yourself with a set

of masts they cannot rip

or strip.

Rescue yourself from the doldrums

breath fresh air into your lungs

leave the noxious and nasty

to suffocate on their own tongues.

Cause they never will know

what you have lived and do know;

they don’t deserve to encounter

what you can be

what you will be

what you will become

when you thrive and you grow.

Set your sights and show

that beauty bright

and innermost light

of your selfless glow.

Smile like the crest of a wave

and remain deep

leave those naysayers to weep

in their shallow dug graves.

Callum Featherstone

Cracks in the ceiling

The cracks in the ceiling

Make a frowning face

of this house

Leaving a mark

Like the joy that you’re stealing

When hatred spews from your mouth

But we find light in the dark.

Find the light…

In the cracks of the ceiling

In the lines of your face

As you smile through the feelings

Of dread and disgrace.

Though you might

find fear

In the cracks of the ceiling

And find

the end is near

As you smile

through those feelings…

Feel you’re

Just so out of place.

Try to find the light.

Find yourself in the cracks

Plug them whole with your strength

And love one another

to great length

Find yourself in the smiles

Make happiness your self-pact.

Cause those cracks in the ceiling

Are rainfall of sorrow – drowning

Awash with feelings you dread

But when it’s someone else flailing instead

You’ll find those cracks

Can be filled up with care

And kindness;

both buoyant and healing.

When someone else’s house is frowning

And spirit drowning

Don’t let that sorrow seep in

Use your compassion.

Be there.

Plug the cracks with your love.

Fill your house with that love.

Build each other with love.

Lovingly,

Build one another up.

Callum Featherstone

You Shooting Stars

Feeling hopeless and helpless

Left alone feeling selfless

Aren’t reasons to feel

That your life doesn’t help us.

‘Cause you matter so much

And your matter is such

That nobody can take it

In their own selfish clutch.

When the time comes you’ll know

Just like arrow and bow

That you were meant to shoot

To the stars – ever glow,

You may live to suffer

And if it gets all the tougher

Then please just remember

Together we grow.

Don’t let go.

Callum Featherstone

Death & Taxes

Death and taxes

are for certain –

you spend your life

for the final curtain.

So, what does it matter –

what is the point?

Tiny feet?

The pitter patter?

Success? Career?

Trophy wife?

Or, is there more

than meets the eye?

Burnt candle wax is

time passed by.

And passers by

you learn their faces

on commutes

littered with

sojourned strangers.

Just like the streets

you learn to tread,

learn to steer clear

of some instead.

A forever question

of take and give

of peace and war

of love and hate

of is there more?

Wipe the slate.

Clean the floor.

Swallow a hard pill

for indigestion.

Make your mind

up what you want!

They cannot find

the knowledge fount.

When all is said

and all is done,

when blue is red

and cruel is kind,

you’ll search the times

⁃ a memorial quest

and smile sublime

(once taxed to death)

at not need or want

fulfilled at behest.

But, of those you loved

and those who loved

loving you the best.

Callum Featherstone

Human Traffic

Those heavy, haughty, heady lights

Of glass and metal, red and white

Reaching hedonistic heady heights?

Going everywhere but nowhere fast

Going almost always steady, right?

Human traffic to the very last.

Inner city lost and found

Emperor’s no longer gowned

His smile has been bought by frowns

Took a vow no longer sacred

Impeached, disgraced, de-crowned

Returned to soured sender; naked.

Ask that coarse concrete cocoon

“Why is now always too soon?”

Gasped out under crescent moon

Asthma ridden apparition

Let go cele-brat-ion balloon

Burst your bubbled premonition.

Satanic mill lies derelict

Social housing? That’s for heretics.

Look what we’ve inherited!!

Show your neck and wrap the noose

From gallows sprung by rhetoric

10PM displays The News;

A righteous killing of the truth enemy.