Poetry by Jack Bradshaw
By Jack Bradshaw
A restaurant. A
table. A friend.
A good friend.
A human. An animal. A life.
An honourable life.
A stem. A bond. A connection.
A real connection.
The familiar comfort.
The breaking glass.
The cheering crowd.
The shrieking child.
The ringing phone.
The throbbing song.
Overwhelming chaos.
“What can I get you?”
Snap. Open. Present.
Hello Waiter.
A simple question, a complex answer.
Steak for them.
Salad for me.
Reality check for everyone.
Suddenly alone.
First, the awkwardness.
The moment of silence.
The broken eye contact.
They know what I know.
Politeness draws us close.
Second, the small talk.
The undeniable undercurrent.
The unspoken disagreement.
They know what I think.
Apprehension pushes us apart.
Third, the excuse.
Species. Hubris.
History? Tradition.
Intelligence...
Entitlement.
DIVINITY! Authority.
They know I’m not buying it.
Anxiety for them.
Anxiety for me.
Anxiety for everyone.
Overwhelming chaos.
A moment of silence.
A moment of noise.
A moment of choice.
Choice for me.
Choice for them.
Choice for them.
The familiar trap.
Dissent or dismiss.
Critique or condone.
Challenge or endorse.
Failure or failure.
Just disengage... it never works.
Just let it go... and eat your plants.
Just-
Just? Hardly. Enough is enough.
Frustration simmers.
Indignation brews.
Patience wears thin.
The defences grow.
The absurd philosophies.
The baseless ideologies.
The twisted hypotheticals.
Ridiculous distractions.
The tangential topics.
The unrelenting rationalisations.
The blistering prejudice.
All irrelevant.
Dissonance.
Dissonance.
Dissonance.
Endless dissonance.
Enough to fill the room.
Enough to drown the conscience.
Enough to end a life.
A body.
A mind.
A soul.
A person.
A life.
The plates arrive.
A steak.
A snack.
A meal.
A taste.
A moment.
Enough!
Anger. Malice. Fury.
Where did these come from?
Rage. Indignation.
Frustration.
Where is this going?
Bitterness. Disgust. Vitriol.
Where do I put all this?
Overwhelming chaos.
Stop being polite.
Speak the truth.
State the obvious.
“THAT
is a fucking
PERSON!”
Underwhelming simplicity.
Shock, mouth agape.
Discomfort, eyes wide.
Silence... silence.
Regret. No, wait, it can’t be...
A hint of horror, recognition?
A sliver of disgust, acknowledgement?
A gentle inwards turn! Acceptance!
Please... please... no... of course not.
A grimace of disgust, normal.
A frown of contempt, always.
A sneer of disapproval, understandable.
Failure. Again.
My words disperse.
Their defences distract.
Our bond decays.
Snap. Closed. Distant.
No more may be said.
No more will be heard.
No more can be done.
The vegan crossed the line, politeness must quell passion.
The vegan broke the contract, tribe above the truth.
The vegan disturbed the peace, harmony at all costs.
But most importantly...
The steak is getting cold.
- Jack Bradshaw is a nascent writer and author with roots in engineering and
science. His career began with an honours degree in Mechatronic Engineering,
followed by tenure at Google as a Senior Software Engineer. He now explores
novel ideas and perspectives through paintings, writing,
and open-source programming.
If he could learn the answer to any one question, he would ask: “Why is the
universe causal rather than acausal?” More at jjbradshaw.com.