53 and imploding – an antinovel – Paperback/Kindle

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I wrote this twenty-two years ago – one man struggling to find purpose in a meaningless universe, to find sanity in the midst of human insanity. A mosaic of thoughts, actions and words as I wrest substance from the jaws of absurdity.

The older I get the more I come to realise that humans are psychotic apes. We foolishly believe we can live forever and our lives have some intrinsic worth.

53 and imploding eBook : goodwin, opher: Amazon.co.uk: Kindle Store

We are not forever. We are only a brief second in forever, a blink, a swearword, a gasp and ….. gone. We may only ever see a few of the countless zillions of stars blink out. In time they all will run down like drained batteries and the lights will slowly fade into darkness. There will be no one around to pull the cord or flick the switch or ponder the eternal stillness.

Ha. Ha. Ha. I laugh at your vanity of forever. What a fool it makes of you. Genuflection to your gods – it takes seconds. Seconds that could have been full of life.

Sex and death. That’s all there is. A bit too simplistic? It’s the things you do with your seconds that makes the difference. Do you live your life with merit? Is each second of choice well decided? Is there purpose in your existence or do you drool and stagger round like cattle? ‘Pretty cool here. Get pissed, get stoned, fuck and dress to impress.’

Fine lines – there’s only fine lines between cool and fool, smart and fart, bright and shite.

Fun comes before the fall. Fuck your mind and fuck your heart. Yet it matters not. Pleasures taken carelessly or considered; excess or moderation; purpose and pomposity – it’s all the same. It is all the same worms, same stars blinking, same journey, same end.

No. It is not where you are going that matters. Religion has really fucked up there. Our imagination likes to create tidy purpose. Life is not sufficient. There has to be more. I am no good at endings – neither is reality. It’s the journey. It’s the way you travel that matters. It’s what you do with all those seconds you are busy squandering. Now don’t get me wrong. At the end of a story who is to say if it was the hero, villain or bit player who had the most worthy part to play? Who is to judge the value of a few seconds spend watching football on the telly, reading a novel or writing? Who indeed?

I choose to write. I pluck these words from the holes in my brain.

The novel is dead. There are no stories. There are no beginnings and ends. Reality is continuous.

These words are my reality.

Levi’s obviously!

Posted on by Opher

White, Ignorant, stupid and an embarrassment to the rest of us white guys.

Martin Rowson sums it up! Cartoon

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Where are the policies?

Where is the protest?

128,000 dead, lies and sleaze, cronyism and incompetence, wasted billions – and nobody cares.

A lazy, inept clown from an overprivileged background is thought to be competent.

‘Oh I love Boris.’

This is democracy??

Thanks John Peachey.

Poetry – Anthem for Fucked Youth

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Anthem for Fucked Youth

What bells ring for those who totter vacantly?

Only the monstrous anger of the drunken thugs

Only the machine gun rattle of laughter

Can down the last orders from their mugs

Endless mockeries for them who vacuously stare

In search of laughs and empty pleasure

Bitter rebuke and mindless eyes glare

As their anorexic souls store their pointless treasure

What meaning for those who cruise to enjoy

Not in the bodies of girls, but in their eyes

Glazed dreams of abuse and lies

The gelled hair and dangling shirt

Designer labels and trainered feet

Now lobotomised cattle on the street

Opher 24.3.99

Wilfred Owen is one of my favourite poets. I wrote this poem after making my way through the comatose crowds in the centre of town for whom the purpose of life is merely to attain unconsciousness.

I heard no discussion taking place about the purpose of life. No philosophical discourse. No in depth analysis of prose, poetry or philosophy; no appreciation of book, film or song, just the clatter of high heels, the swagger and sway and the gormless glazed glare.

Like cattle in a field they go instinctively towards their demise.

There was violence, anger and hostility. It reminded me of a battlefield.

These were the days when the bell tolled for last orders and the streets filled with tottering figures looking for a shag, fight or incredibly a curry.

They were a sad and sorry sight – an army of empty-heads. The gas-attack will come as a surprise.

Poetry – Darkness Descends – A poem of despair.

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Darkness Descends

Behind everything is a philosophy. It creates the ethos. It creates the zeitgeist. It pervades the air we breathe. Philosophy drives everything. We all have one whether we know it or not; every society has one as its basis.

The basis of my philosophy has been one of love and hope. I have put my faith in mankind and that the good in people will prevail over the bad; that we must build, through education, a world that is full of the best we can do and not the worst.

On one hand I see the destructive greed, power-seeking and cruelty that is mindlessly destroying the planet and on the other I see the beauty we create, the altruism and love that reflects us at our best.

Mostly I am optimistic that the billions of kind, caring and pleasant people will prevail over the far fewer heartless, selfish, violent beasts.

I would like to see humanity moving to a more civilised state where nature is respected, animals are not treated cruelly, our population is controlled, and things such as war, racism, exploitation and sexism are banished. I want a world with wilderness, fresh air and equality.

The only way I can see us achieving this is through a centralised government, the end of nations and religions, and a move out of the tribalism and primitive thinking that creates so much hate and violence. I dream of universal laws to prevent pollution, war and discrimination.

That is why the Brexit vote was so appalling to me. It seemed to me to be a vote based on fear and hatred that would spawn an ethos of isolation, xenophobia, inequality and further disharmony. It was the dream of the terrorists, nationalists and racists that prevailed over those dreams of idealists like myself.

For me the world lurched into a darker place that is less safe and much further away from the unity and togetherness of the world I dream of.

I can only see a future of gloom, environmental destruction and war. The philosophy of Brexit is opposed to everything I hold dear. I have lost my faith in people. The philosophy we live in changed.

I wrote this at an attempt at catharsis. I need to become more optimistic again.

 

Darkness Descends

 

Gigantic dark waves

Crashing on grey sands

As huge gloom-ridden clouds

Obscure the light.

Ice-cold winds bite through

The skin with shards of steel

As warmth and sunshine are banished forever.

 

Never again will the sun break through

To bathe the land with hope.

No more will the heart beat

With enthusiasm for the fight.

As the cloying mists of misery

Swirl in clammy fingers of doom

And claw the very life out of

All that would dare to breathe.

 

Opher 10.7.2016

Poetry – Trippin’ – a poem of despair at futility.

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Even optimistic idealists have their moments of despair. One look around the world is usually sufficient. If it isn’t ISIS trying to destroy Western civilisation, shutting down girls education, putting women into sacks, banning music and trying to force everyone to memorise medieval texts by heart and go back to the dark ages, it is the destruction of the natural world and animal kingdom.

It gets depressing.

Sometimes all I see ahead is war and a concrete jungle devoid of life.

Then I look at the wonder of the universe, the beauty of the world and have to take fresh heart. There are lots of things to stand opposed to. We have to fight for a better world – peacefully. Every problem has a solution.

Trippin’

I was reaching for a rainbow

When I fell from the sky

Tripping over reality

Falling from a high

 

I was wishing on a comet

Streaming through the night

Standing on the roadside

With no sunrise in sight

 

I was hoping for a paradise

That we could build together

Falling from a dream

That was meant to last forever

 

Trippin’ over reality

While reaching for the sky

Falling from a dream

Rebounding from a lie

 

Opher 21.2.00