Still Stationary

Waiting for my chips in the Power of God.
Waiting for the religious radio same as yesterday.
Fry me a fish and I´ll pay with my pesos,
Souls no more. Just one sun again.
The ketchup gets it, but the mayonese isn´t sure;
Is less worldy and more suspicious.
I hope the top´s screwed firmly on the salt sellar,
Not like last time, I ended up with batter brine.
The pepsi bottles are small and globular here
- Little peguins for whom the end draws near.
Chips not so good today, nor the batter neither,
I gulp down my disappointment, doused in lemon.
Its fair possible I´ve done something to upset the big fella,
Take it as a sign, I´ll be more compassionate next time,
Take my turn as bait on the line,
Receiving payment in kind for things that were mine,
Trading televisions, sharp knives and olive oil for time.
Time to wait for something worthy to do,
To get a good lead then I´ll search a bit too.
Time to wait for things that are unique,
Use them as plugs when i find a leak,
In veins that run a tight ship,
That carry belief to doubt, breath to frustration,
Life to stagnation and allow me to sleep.
Time to learn turtle from tortoise,
Eat oysters, walk cloisters,
Ride dolphin and porpoise.
Time to work out what the fuck´s going on,
Or at least get a little further along.
Time to consider if that´s even any closer.
Time to discover another unproveable truth,
Time to think of pretty words to put it in
- A beauty in a dress, in make up, on a mountain.
What´s it all worth?
Possibly so pointless its priceless: there´s no meaning but that we make.
Time to accept that´s no bad thing.
Time to realise it can hardly go wrong:
To walk to run,
To go to come,
To sit and talk,
Or stand and think,
Or write and drink,
To work and rest,
To fuck and grow old,
To wait for my chips in the Power of God,
Where service is tidal and the choice of name odd.
To listen to sermons and pop music,
And fish theoretical cod.