Monotonous Expression

A Poem by Kate Jones

Spoken Word against superficiality

They say expression is important

An art form that reminds us we’re alive

Proof of consciousness amongst daily monotony and grey buildings miles high

But I don’t see that look in your eyes anymore and I can’t understand why or how

and I know it all sounds cliché but your drifiting away and they say that that’s a bad sign.

I’m no academic writer; but I ain’t from ‘the hood’ either

Politics, values and education �" I think I got what I should

And they say its all relative anyway so really who gives it a s**t anymore

Just find me a paradigm that vaguely fits and we’re good

2 second click away to oversimplification, let your ‘opinion’ be heard in a way that agrees with most of the nation

And it isn’t so much of an opinion but a general statement of good intention

Actions degraded to silent words presented for instant gratification

Temporary ego boost, maybe if you’re lucky you can recycle and at your next social invitation

quote George Orwell or Mark Twain

who’s books you’ve never read but you saw them on Instagram.

Who am I to be cynical? maybe the sustenance that sustains my sanity and my interest in humanity lies elsewhere now

The colours of your hair maybe �" hydrogen peroxide and a flash of pink. Real deep yeah?

Or maybe the bold contrasting colours of your shirt as it sinks into your skin so tight and those opaque black lines that border your eyes

I’m so lost looking for this beauty that I’ve been told I’ll find through magazines and -

Did I mention the colour of your eyes?

Because apparently that’s important

The pigment of your iris, let me smile and romanticise some mystical bullshit

Forget character and actions and honest reflections

Why work on integrity when you can rise above with a selfie and take a short cut with your personality

by those quizzes that ask your favourite colour and then reveal that you’re not lazy

…you’re a mystical being with hidden talents

…And that maybe a bear or a tiger is your inner spiritual animal

Please, humour me, I don’t quite get the popularity or how html could really understand me

But I do believe that talent is there in everybody, layered beneath these narcissistic tendencies

So much blood, sweat and tears in that dry rhythm of progress and technology

From those soulless numbers you despised manipulated by ordinary people with tired eyes who don’t have time to cry just ‘cos their stripes alluded to larger thighs

From the campaigners who cut through tear gas and the nurses who wipe your wrinkly a*s when you’re old and weak and can barely speak

This is what real expression is.

I have nothing against subjectivity and creativity but nowadays I feel like this form of beauty gets watered down like f*****g homeopathy

And I realise that this rant contains hiprocisy and its deliberately laced with dumb hyperbole

But I just wish that I could re-ignite that look in your eyes and make you believe that theres more to life than the daily lies that we’ve been told

Bring you back and convince you that despite what they tell you I really do value you, not for your stupid hair but the everyday acts of kindness that I see you do

Those acts that you think mean nothing to me or that old lady you helped in aisle three

And when you cry I don’t think that you’re weak because it shows that you give a damn.

More importantly I wish you could see, without compliments from him or me, how much you can mean to society and that you valued yourself enough to not need external sympathy

Because god almighty, this culture that we follow is a blur and its blinding me, and I feel like I can’t see you anymore

From TV to radio we are told how to act, how to feel and so we conceal that childlike innocence that we used to have in exchange for social approval, dare I say it, because we want to feel loved, even if it’s not real

And like emotional lidocaine these distractions take away the pain but I can see that you’re neither sad nor happy