Time: Sean


It’s been a while since anyone posted, which is pretty appropriate considering the theme. I tried to talk about a few different things as usual, loosely based around Time. From the joys of alone time to the constant battles with my eternal nemesis (time management), with a few things in between. Enjoy

Time Bandit

Long day, alone at last, plugging in the phono,
Before you press play you’re interrupted by your phone though,
Your funds are low and seemingly they’re ploughing through the snow yo,
All or nothing evening popping like coco,
The kind of night before you even know, you’re owing dough bro,
Your heart is saying yes but your head is saying no though,
FOMO and YOLO conspire like a foe so just go,
Have a long look at yourself like a GoPro

Your beaus working late so tonight you’re flying solo,
Just you to think about, egotistical as Bono,
So sprawl out, eat a keema naan and watch Pinocchio,
Buy six Brooklyn for the price of one at Mojo,
All alone, guilty pleasures on, bumping JoJo,
Might even try my slow flows, Enya, orinoco,
Reciting all today’s thoughts gathered up in note prose,
Swing the fucking nun-chukks round the living room (the dojo),
Shitting in the nude, door open like I’m loco,
No social papparazzi here, lining up their photo,
Me sweating in the background, smiling like a bozo,
Face like Quasimodo melting in slo-mo,
Instead I’m getting hammered on my Larry like a hobo

You owe it to yourself to be crazy-lazy sometimes,
Alert tones, hassle from the second that the sun rise,
Overshare Anonymous, begging til they’re tongue-tied,
Blue double tick so now your ignorance is unwise,
Self-righteous, scary, How dare he’s til the fun dies,
Locked in to the Matrix like Keanu and the stunt guys,
Digitally frontline, backlog expanding,
Mentally drained from the attention they’re demanding,
For 40 hours weekly, your time is someone else’s,
Then there’s 15 messages primed upon your pelvis,
It’s helpless, hopeless, the punchline’s jokeless,
Concentration breaking like osteoporosis

Time’s an evil mistress, a real cruel proprietress,
You’re stood over a chasm on a tightrope, wireless,
Not getting any younger, there’s simply no denying this,
A vague, crushing pressure radiating from inside of us,
Back in the day it was ‘All aboard the Cider bus!’
A box set devoured every Friday by the five of us,
Life of Riley addicts, our commitment it was tireless
Tiredness was our excuse, we wouldn’t lift a finger,
Then exams, they would arrive in the bleak midwinter

Supposed to start revising, eventually,
Your to-do-list starts expanding exponentially,
So you’re suddenly jogging, setting some goals,
Convinced that by sweating you’re blessing your soul,
You’re getting involved in online debates,
Winding up terrible kids from the States,
And bingeing on Youtube, a downloading rampage,
Majestic to Mos Def and right back to Band Aid,
Elaborate lunches, light as a feather,
Ravishing radishes, spinach and feta,
Your shithole apartment has never been better!

My point is that some of us thrive under pressure,
And you CAN approach life like that mindless fresher,
Where the less time you have, the better you’ll fare,
Zone out for a week and just let down your hair,
Do a pub quiz, watch some films, then prepare,
For consecutive all-nighter deadline despair,
You’re back on that muddy road,
Super-Seian study mode,
Sleep’s-for-when-you’re-dead-and-Red-Bull’s-my-best-buddy mode

Hours gettting gobbled, it’s insane to see,
Routine makes me numb, look at the state of me,
So I set some time aside for spontaneity,
Oh delicious irony, soul-shackled paradox,
Burn your diary, wear a mismatched pair of socks,
Your life is yours alone so grab the horns of the triceratops,
Walk along the river, eat a multi-pack of Jelly Tots,
Line up a swan dive, land a full-blown belly flop,
Hand-write a letter to a friend, don’t text your hellish boss,
Spiritual renaissance, self-prescribed zen,
Do what makes you feel good then do it again,
So I’ve dusted off the pad and I’ve picked up the pen

I used to feel guilt, my thoughts left me frustrated,
That if I’m not writing rhymes then my time it is tainted,
Forcing it out, inspiration it fled,
Cos you can’t coerce words with a gun to the head,
You take a step back, think of anything else,
Go for a drink man, loosen your belt,
Now that you’re rid of the pressure and the burden weight,
Your brain kicks in and ideas start to germinate

Get to bed tipsy, alarm set for eight,
Switch mind to standby, no time to create,
But the torrent starts going, this river needs rowing,
Wild, white-knuckle, insatiable flowing,
Creative invention arrived uninvited,
But it’s such a rare guest that I dare not deny it,
Experience-sharing, feelings laid-baring,
Joy to frustration straight through to despair
And then back to delight as your words take shape,
The world spins more quickly, time accelerates

My mind’s penetrated by basic equations,
Time = money by my calculations,
And money is evil by most estimations,
So people view ageing with grave consternation,
But my perspective is deceptively brazen,
Bring it all on! The perpetual vacation,
Diminishing sex drives and vexing relations,
Knocking back sherry at Xmas and waiting,
To kill all the fun with some reckless debating,
Old eyes a-twinkle, pouring a gin,
Proud of the crinkles scoring my skin,
If you’re feeing old now, I’ve got news for you friend,
You’re much younger now than you’ll be again


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