Probably Unfinished

What’s probably to you?
Is it a word, does it carry meaning, is it a connotation of your own life?
What’s unfinished to you?
That brainwave you’re trying to catch while jotting it down?

I do realise that this is temporary blindness.
I realise this is temporary deafness.
I do realise this is borrowed and recycled.

What I know and what I want to share
Is whatever there is within me.
What I fathom is only
What (that?) no one will ever grasp.

And as I come up with lines,
As I come up with tactics to make my nights whole,
My hours seem less insignificant,
I do not realise that this is what all our forefathers have done
Thousands of years ago.

We smoke, we shit, we paint, we piss,
We spend our minutes considering ideals
That consume us -
knowing we will never achieve to comprehend.

And suddenly I realise that
All my words, all the lines I’ve ever
Come up with, I’ve ever imagined,
Built and constructed in my brain,
evolve around the one and only idea
of how to escape loneliness.


JBG, 1st march 1984 – (unfinished, currently developing and under reconstruction)