Thoughts on a Monday morning

Thoughts on a Monday morning

I want to be uncontactable.
I want to be Sentinelese.
I want to make my home in the mountains.
I want to make my home in the trees.

I’ll loose volleys of arrows at the postman
When he brings me electricity bills.
I’ll waste no time watching TV programmes
About survival skills;

I’ll hunt and I will gather –
Maybe even plant me some seeds.
I’ll learn not to want for so much all the time
And to focus on my needs

Because I never asked for this smartphone;
I never asked for these angry birds;
I never asked for this risk assessment;
I never asked for these words.

All I wanted was a sense of belonging
To a land I could think of as home,
Some friends and family to explore it with,
And the freedom to roam.

I need to see direct correlation
Between my labour and the remuneration.
I’m no longer able to sympathize
With the vision of a corporation

So I’m trading my Romanian SUV
For some cobs and gypsy wagons
And I’m heading off-the-grid to a pagan place
Marked only ‘Here be dragons’

Because I was born part wild-thing
With claws that are retractable.
And I want to be Sentinelese now.
I want to be uncontactable.

 

Appears in:

In the Men’s Room [201?]

 

Notes:

The “Sentinelese” are an officially uncontacted tribe living on North Sentinal Island in the Indian Ocean. They vigorously reject all contact with outsiders, usually via the medium of bow and arrow.

 

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