Short fiction and serialised novellas of GJ Fairlamb

Archive for April 2015

Complacency (poetry is always indulgence)

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I leave no stain on the world.

No more than the usual first-worlder.

Only plastics, carbon dioxide,

and wasted water.

I make no claim on the world.

I have struggled and found Enough.

Safety. Security.

And why not rejoice?

People would die, have died,

for Enough.

My pen lies empty.

I make no stand.

I once had plans

that washed through my fingers

and when I stood and looked again

my juniors walked ahead,

a mile away, ahead.

They speak their ambition in light tongues.

‘I might, I might.’

You will, for you are not me.

Nails crush into palm.

My pen lies empty.

I dabble in the shallows of my authorial plans.

Always Someday, Someday, Someday…

My pen lies empty.

How dare I do?

How dare I not do?

I said I would.

I said I would, but…

I have built this Enough

on this bones of my broken dreams.

I have calm.

For the first, I have calm.

And yet, O Muse, you haunt me.

Restless ambition.

Fool human condition.

This Enough is no longer Enough.

I leave no stain?

How dare I.

How dare I.

I make no claim?

How can I?

May I?

To make a stand?

I will break, as breaking does.

(How many times before I convince myself

that I am not brittle?)

How dare.


Ceaseless pen.

You urge me to write.


Indulge me, please,

this once.

Allow my selfishness.


Dead conscious safety or reckless living vanity.

Either way, please indulge–

(No, only one way)

(Ever only one way)

Ever only one way.

So it is.

I write.


I have no complacency with you here.


Written by G.J.

29/04/2015 at 11:11 pm

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