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the blob

See I’d finished my decorating
and was sat admiring the job,
when there from the middle of the skirting board,
my pleasure were disturbed by the sight of this blob.
Now I could only see it in a certain light
and anyone who’d already been
to view the fruits of my week-long endeavours
could, quite apparently, not have seen
the imperfection that was about to haunt me
and just about everything that I then saw
from there-on-in, for quite some time,
were tainted by the sight of this flaw.
Of other visitors, everyone loved the room,
and seemingly no one could even see
this menacing mutant, this drain on my brain,
this disruption to my inner tranquillity,
that had somehow took hold of my life so it seems,
it shaped my whole being,
made nightmares of my dreams.
I couldn’t sit in the room
without somehow facing
this blemish, this defect,
I mean I even tried placing
various objects in front
in an effort to hide,
but it‘d work it’s way round
and ridicule me from the side.
So I took some more paint
and re-did the patch,
couldn’t believe my misfortune
when the colour didn’t match
and though it did seem to change
as I sat and watched it dry,
when I brushed it with a second coat
this blob came floating by.
It affected my health,
I started to feel well,
when I wasn’t in the room
with the foible from Hell.
I even visited a shrink
who only offered the advice
I should be more objective
think of blobs as being nice.
When my friend sat me down
saying he’d like to discuss this,
I helped him to the floor
with a Manchester kiss,
it was all too apparent
I was becoming obsessed,
my whole life was now relative
to this hemispherical pest.
Was it that my previous years
had simply been an empty void?
Had I found a purpose after all,
or was I paranoid?
Was it maybe that reality
had found a new direction?
Was this a love /hate scenario?
Was it, in fact, a strange affection?
My friends stopped coming round,
I even lost my job,
existence was now a game of chance,
my only certainty, the blob.
So eventually I found myself
with very little choice,
to accept defeat and end life swiftly
or maybe give the blob a voice
and being too cowardly for the former,
I then opted for the latter
which at first felt strange, I no longer cared,
my life was a mess, nothing else mattered.
So with a drop of Dutch courage,
it was late one night,
when I pulled up a chair
and dimmed down the light,
I said “Please, Mr. Blob
would you kindly explain
what you’ve done with my life?
Why you’ve messed with my brain?”
He said, “Listen here son
do you still fail to see
this is all down to you
and your attitude to me.
Can’t you see that in life
there will always be things
that affect you adversely
or upset your feelings?
And once you acknowledge
their existence per se,
they’ll only ever get smaller
but will never go away
and karma will bring them
round again in good time,
in irony and paradox,
in reason and rhyme,
it’s the fervour of life,
if you’ll just let it be,
it’s joyous, sometimes painful,
but it’s all about energy
and just as a footnote
I want to add this, for you Paul,
make sure you drive your nail heads home
when you next fit skirting to your wall”.
Well never before
had I moved so fast,
I shot out of the room
to where I’d put my tools last,
returned swiftly with my hammer,
swung it up in the air,
braced myself, but had to laugh,
the blob wasn’t there.

© copyright paulleaderinbrackets