29 ways to stay creative.

Normalcy

He walks down these midnight streets, he

hears echoes through dim-lit Normalcy.

While one wonders in unison

more self-exposed lies that soul alone.

It is that breath we hear,

that drive -a call- to run,

that wont for all things fun,

that gut-wrenched laugh shame fear.

Hooded and hidden this psyche,

here;

seeks no further idiocy-

secretly- for normalcy.

But under specs of gold above,

(though looketh not)

transient patience. See self dissolve. 

Threatening the status, a man coup-coup.

The sky was darkening and there had been a layer of high fog over the city all day. I walked past the Octagon again this evening. Last night I was there roundabout the same time, with hundreds of others in expectation of the eviction of the local Occupy. Rumour goes the police wasn't even aware of an eviction until the rag had told them, which strengthened the occupiers belief that the media was forcing the event -in hope of tomorrow's fresh splash. That is possibly all it was, though a trespass notice had been given to the group, the bells eerily chimed eight resonating in an air crisp with electrifying anticipation. In contrast with a few minutes beforehand, when the 300 or so protesters had been chanting and marching around the Octagon; everyone was now quiet, prepared media crew were in their vehicles and the speakers' words rang hollow. For minutes at a time the sound of sirens forced people to instinctively turn. False alarm, nothing. I stayed til two philosophizing and talking politics, and helping to protect tents and protesters from a relatively paced onslaught of negative public feedback, including a headbutt which has since gone viral.

Today the tents were still there, though typical of midweek at the site, the new public forum of the square held few people after dinner. Instead of staying I thought I'd make my way to the uni library.

"Talking about foreign policy... Dan! how are you?"

I quickly dived into the depths of memory to remember him -"uh, wasup bro, having a good night?"; ah yes, from uni.

"Good mate, just come from the Octagon? Going to uni, exams? Good night?"

What a barrage of questions, I noticed he was slightly intoxicated. "Yeah, finished though. Just off to write some e-mails to the family. It's the only place I can do it, the library..."

"Oh, you must've been one of the first! I've been celebrating uhm ah Malbas we.."

"So you've finished too! For good"

"Yeah, na na. Just a coup hoping for a better place"

A coup!? Celebrating..? I couldn't quite understand what he was talking about. His demeanor was confusing, his words came flustered but also mumbled. I felt quite alarmed.

"Wait, a coup where?"

"... enough lack of equality, corporate greed..."

"Where has this coup been" And why the hell was he talking about it so personally!? I was becoming impatient.

"Look man, where..."

"These politicians have blood on their hands and... Here."

My mouth hung gaping, by the second I was becoming more confused. I looked around, was this a joke? Who's in that car behind me? I looked up the street quickly before looking at the man. The whites of his eyes had light red cracks and his gaze was glassy.

"Wait, what?"

"In Invercargill, come down to the quarters and... so many murders in their hands these politicians it is really quite a scary thing. So enough, equality all. From Invercargill, South Island going up from here, or down because Invercargill is up and it's all good". 

I stood staring at him still while he talked. I felt like a train had hit me, but equality and military... but New Zealand? We are in New Zealand. My thoughts rushed as fast as the adrenalin through my veins. I just realized I had seen an army truck, with its massive wheels and high motor, driving quickly not even five minutes ago. From the Naval HQ just down the road. It's benches were empty.

I was still in disbelief, I felt like this was an incredibly transcendental moment. How do I stop this.

"But it's all good" he repeated. "I'm off down now, maybe you should check the news more often". 

"Yeah... I'll uh, cool." I turned around and started walking to the library.

I was feeling incredibly paranoid. Everything around me was a sign, I felt like a hawk ready to dive on the smallest piece of evidence. I couldn't believe him, but was it true? There weren't many cars around, bars and restaurants were open, but empty. I took notice of my phone, nothing. For a second I told myself it was all normal, then I decided to look into Malbas.

It was also empty. Though nothing pointed to the drunk words of my friend, I still felt hawkish. When my phone went I jumped, thinking it may be a more political friend- it was just work. I now heard someone shout and round the corner someone looked to be superstitiously texting. My ears turned to any conversation i could pick up on and walking I stared into restaurants hoping to catch a glimpse of a news report.
At last I arrived to Uni, busy with exam study as usual at this time of the year. I was called to by a political friend to participate in my usual political conversations. This was ridiculous, but I checked up the news as quickly as possible, with nothing new.

This post has been cross-posted to speakingsavvy.blogspot.comhttp//:speakingsavvy.blogspot.com.