THE MASTERPLAN

a beautiful english summer's day
i stroll down to the local post office
to mail off a copy of 'elephant' to a friend
i head back up the road past blooming roses
to the crown of the hill
cumulonimbus clouds of cotton wool
dance across a vivid blue sky
ahead of me i see rolling hills of green countryside
sloping down to the edges of the city
i climb the steep lane to the library
sweating now in the heat of the midday sun
i get on a fast machine without having to q
so here i am
the boy with the masterplan
who talks in a broken language that few quite understand
communication is difficult
it is hard not to be marginalised
to be crowded out by trivia and distraction
but the masterplan will prevail
make no mistake
the masterplan links the personal and the public
work and leisure
it isn't a job and it isn't a lifestyle
it is all-encompassing
and ever-changing
it can't really be written down
although i will try
because i know i must speak the language of those in power
those who hold the reins
but those reins are for the taking
for grasping
for pulling and yanking the horse and cart in the right direction
oh yeah, my seeds
i got the bit between my teeth
as neil young once sang
expecting to fly...