A Little Mouse Fart…

B. J. Thompson
Jul 24, 2017 · 2 min read

Societal, corporate, political, representational…expectations.

What would we artists create if such not existed? If resources aplenty and chastising dead?

What colour would that freedom be?

What would we say? Do? Hear? Watch? Feel…?

We are told No. Not yet.

No. Not quite right.

No. Not ready, not proper, not perfect for profit. No.

“Just to be free for one day…”

~~~

Practice. Fail. Rise. Redo. Practice. Fail. Hide. Redo. Practice. Sail. Feel a fake. Practice.

Friends hail because they are friends.

Family hails because unconditional love is as Helen Keller.

The gate-keepers close their squeaky gates and smile.

So we scramble up, wrap up, our hurt in a bandana, and walk back, walk forward, walk around and around and around…neon blinking lights a swirl, or no lights at all…as unseen crickets.

Splashes. Ease. Fear to Rage. We puke lime green and coffin black. Shiny black. Blackstar.

The page turns rough. The words jagged. We smile out the window. We scream in the shower. No tears…beaten dead long ago.

“Just to be free for one day…”

People see us seeing, and they feel us feeling. We reach out, they reach out, to us. The bridge is left down, the gate unguarded. We seep in, then we seep out, slithering, oozing…dark light sucks in all.

The toe, my toe, dipping, trying, me screaching, crying. He said feel fear. He said reach farther. Eyes wide, no air. Look up, dive down, it’s only breath you will lose. To die having not tried, is that not a death rattle unending?

I won’t try. Trying is filled with fear. I will do. I will see. My ripples will rattle that cage and the vibration will break all locks, and I’m…

“free…

for just one day”.

~~~

He lived and shook for us all.

Creatives galore.

Singers, painters, musicians, writers.

He rattled all the cages.

And all our locks long ago have broken free.

I dipped my toe. It’s true, my feet don’t touch, and I do feel his freedom — liquid mixed clouds — no air, his death scourge takes my breath but I scream for him now. He made me “free for” more than “one day”.

B. J. Thompson

~~~

"I think it’s terribly dangerous for an artist to fulfil other peoples expectations.
If you feel safe in the area that you’re working in, you’re not working in the right area.
Always go a little further into the water than you feel you’re capable of being in, go a little bit out of your depth, and when you don’t feel that your feet are quite touching the bottom, you’re just about at the right place to do something exciting."

David Bowie

Written by

North-Irish-Canadian literary novelist who yearns to hack out tales on either side of Cocktail Hour...

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