By Stanley Collymore
A depressing day of its own to start with or simply one
that your own actions have markedly contributed
towards, making it that way? Logically, each
day is basically like a blank canvas is to an
artist and what is ultimately transcribed
on it is significantly the responsibility
of and very much up to the individual concerned. So please,
rather than just instinctively blaming others for what you
perceive has gone wrong with your day, kindly stop,
take a few minutes duration of erudite or at the
very least sensible introspection and then
both seriously and honestly re-examine
what either consciously or otherwise
inadvertently you may have done
in turning this particular day
that you’re moaning about,
or others for that matter
into entities that you
now either regard
adversely look back
on with intense
© Stanley V. Collymore
10 August 2019.
This poem – The Blame Game – was inspired by and is specifically written for and dedicated to all the British, so-called Brexiteers – risibly and pathetically delusional as well as seasoned self-serving, convenient aspirants to which ever personally suitable direction they apparently think that the wind is blowing, and the customarily, narcissistic, bandwagon-hopping ones – who asininely deceive themselves that the permanently and rather thankfully defunct British Empire, dead as the Dodo and switching metaphors, is Jesus Christ like about to make a most dramatic, impressive and eternal resurrection and global comeback.
Well dream on and keep taking the pills – if the National Health Service (NHS) or the several doctor’s surgeries nationwide post-Brexit and the NHS’s inevitable privatisation will, without you first coughing up financially for them, let you have them.
What plainly psychologically credulous and easily manipulatively controlled Useful Idiot suckers and patent losers the certifiably, odious bunch of cretins you self-evidently are!