Relation-ships

Manipulation is a stipulation in relation SHIPS
Navigation a love salvation.
Around the ragged rocks the ragged master sang
The first cul de sac would be the last
Blast
Ship Ahoy!
That's my boy.
The proud captain with his 3 brimmed hat,
One brim for this, one for those and two for that.

A captain surely full to the brims with Blind pride

Want to come for a ride ?
It'll cost you

Manipulation is a stipulation in relation ships

Precision, not indecision is what motivates it.

A rough sea and a bad crew

is what endangers you

Storm a brewing

"all hands on the cheque"

the sailors cry

No thought for the ship

or you and I

Why should they? What have they to pay

They are only in it for the money anyway

Woman overboard and underscored

Inform the guard

Send her a card

Hope it wasnt too hard

Must sail on

There's a battle to be won

No place for a woman

The battle ground that is

They are likely to Panic and get in a tizz

You know how it is with women

Land lubbers at heart

Should have known from the start

Manipulation is a stipulation in relationships.

THIS POEM (June 2007)

This poem keeps me lonely

Jealous of what comforts I 

Might derive from less lofty matters. 

It entices me to the end of shores

To the back of caves, to Attic rooms. 

Then casts me out for 

Failing to scribe and causes 

The lungs to intonate and rattle with alien souls 

All in comfort groups boasting of their bonds and 

yet my envy lacks the drive to even dream 

That one day I could be the same. 

Wasted breath - was it for 

The beauty that I came here

Or was it just to stare 

unashamedly into my own eyes 

and say 

"what's new?"

SHAME

aka 1982,

I think its a shame that you can't spell my name and I've shown I'm no good at rounders. 

Now, I've a bump on my knee and its painful to pee. 

I usually call your type bounders. 

Thursday 's Angel saving souls 

Fridays Lady playing roles 

Saturday Drunkard playing rounders 

Sunday wounded cursing Bounders 

Monday creditor , feeling better 

 Tuesday writer, writing letters 

Wednesday daughter hosting Mother 

Thursday Host to something other!

mourning pages

11/12/05,

So back to the morning pages with broken pen, quill and will Scribbling Scrabbling for purpose hoping beyond the fog, the smog and other peoples' smoke that it's not for the best but for the best of what's to come By hanging back from the limelight no truer word was said when your mother Gave you half a chance you chose to die instead. Isn't it a shame, after all they had going for them - but we all know - all you need is Love and I have lost my special child to it, it comes into the house and steals her away with finer promises-better gadgets comfier chairs and easy company. I am not sad - just habitually morose I sit in wait for the sad times and recognise them - I am their best host. I welcome these moments with staring eyes and open heart - I try to lift a finger but I'm hopeless - I can't even start the same story - the nag wheel its a deal its a play.

MOCKING BIRD

MOCKING BIRD

Some would find madness in the curl of the scribe 

Some would find sadness in death. 

But the mocking bird girl permits her song to be heard 

By the man who would take her last breath. 

The words to be reasoned 

The tune to be tried 

The love fan meticulously cooked from inside 

How many needs to be witnessed 

By the bird who lives on the mule 

How many dancers and rangers 

To fawn at the foot of the fool? 

More lives than a nuclear train crash 

More shoes than a Private hotel 

More titles most worthily ravished 

By the sight of the mocking birds tail.

CV's

Everything comes to a standstill
As I join the queue
A pawn in the big game

I deliver my papers
My essential details
and What I do with my time
Is no longer my concern
it's no longer my responsibility
I signed it away along with the time
I took to understand how to join.

CORVUS

Oh I hate to be a scapegoat It makes me feel quite ill Of all the gifts I could receive They dump upon me still It is my role to cut the slack To be who they deride I swallow hard and knock it back Cos faith is on my side. Of all the gem investments That could have cropped the prize They overlook and undermine with a view to capitalize They look to God and Say their prayers And sit at home all smug But when it comes to all souls day They find I have the plug. My Father whispered in my ear “Go to the church and pray That I may be released of coil And travel on my way” His brother, holder of the seal Victim turned oppressor Passes all the richest debts onto his poor successor

phone call circa 1996

you phoned to say you love me
and want me back in your home
you say that you're feeling frightnened
and you don't want to be alone
You promise things will be better
when I'm back into the fold
But you've forgotten all the things you've done
And all the lies that you've told

You Say

Please stay with me baby
And hear what I have to say

do and feel what I'm doing ~There isn't another way

Please stay with me darling
And hear the words I use
I don't want to move away from you
Cos your hearts too good to loose.

poetry book house

SUNDAY, 18 NOVEMBER 2007

My page long life has no rafters 

No borders or boundaries every bit of nothing twirls dervishly through my parched parchment 

And I am dented, wounded , landed, grounded - an adolescent in a squeamish movie - still covering her eyes and always missing the point.

hatred

You tell me I look at you with hate in my eyes
So, naturally I hate you for saying that.
And I shan't even ask for forgiveness
Because you 're too greedy to understand
Greedy for hate -
"If there's any hate - I'll have it! "
I hear you scream and rage
As I turn another page
of our 'life book'
And I shan't even ask for forgiveness
For it is a generous act
An act of generosity
and understanding .
I am without an ounce of Generous Understanding.

clean slate

Did the older generation try to fool you
that they know it?
they don't.
Did you kid yourself you'd get it
with experience
You wont
You can't work your problems out
They work you in
In fact going forwards
Only takes you back again.
Don't think your lucky if you start
with a clean slate
it gets dirty
You're Lucky if you start with a full one
at least you're used to it
I'm upset that writing
appears on mine
that was on yours years ago
I didn't know

stop start 1989

Which came first

Your dissatisfaction or my apathy

sitting tuneless and thoughtless

Mulling over the repetition of interruption

What do you want to do?
and it always comes back
to the same thing
He earns the money
so he cant stop
He earns the money
so he wont stop
He earns the money
why should he stop?
why should he stop and be the one to stay at home
to stop and start to never stop and never start again.

The tide

But what if the tide should never turn
And the ocean bed lie bleached beneath the relentless sun
and sad the moon when the sea becomes the sky
and star fish dull and dried hang petrified on a sky of sand

Half a moon and a sunny day

Anna went westwards
when the picture got too bright.
What with all the activation
she hardly had  peace at night.
During the day she homed in on images
Then, at night turned them into the next day.
"I walked into a sleeping tigers cave
And whispered in it's ear before it woke"

farewell Muse

Silently, How silently
Do you allow the muse
To slip away.
It touches every finger
As it leaves
And makes a final blessing
On your forehead.
As your Naive
And ignorant family
Watch on
And wonder why
You choose the way you do.

THE SCREAM (circa 1980)

From the ice down in my feet

I'm going to let out the scream

That has held me together

for a thousand years

From the sickness in my stomach

I'm refusing all food 

until my body is empty of

Each morsel which I ate blindly 

From the tiredness of my mind 

I'm removing the steel pins of rules 

Against which my wild ideas 

Have bruised themselves for another thousand 

From the contortion of my limbs 

I'm going to stretch each fitted joint 

And if my body wants to break 

For the screams sake I'll let it

ICE SLICE

In order to glide and slide smoothly
on a frozen lake
Your surface has to be hard
resistant and preferably of the same material
Otherwise you are like a floating twig
caught midstream by a biting frost
You are like the cracks in the ice
That onlookers see as natures patterns
You are a source of aesthetics
only admirable in terms of the ices' existence
Why not help to thaw the lake?
become a constant ripple,
a source of delight which doesn't linger
and only depends on one initial action...
The stone being thrown.
It has already been thrown - the choice is yours.

Why Words

There will come a day when I
Will no longer have to think about the thoughts
I write
They shan't be pre-meditated or prepared
But in a few words I will express my feelings
With a few vehicles I shall direct
Someone's journey into space.
Thoughts without meditation
Become something other than thoughts
They come from an essence and not from me
I am the vehicle
I began as words
premeditated, prepared and therefore prejudice
And slowly the essence became and I am
No longer necessary.
The essence is the past-word of some other
just as my words are to me
The process never ends and the begining
comes full circle
How do words express themselves?
Instead of being the expression of someoneelse

faceless

To be faceless,
To be numb in the limbs
And be faceless.
To live an emotion
That evokes tears
And to have none.
To provoke a situation
Of anger
And to feel numb
To be careless enough
To push your way
Past the endurance barrier
To be defenceless
-But not.
defence is facelessness
And to be faceless is to need no defence
I say this only because I know it.
I write because my fingers are numb.
I watch from above
And am able to feel
the feelinglessness

SPITE

Never thinking that the night would end alone 

I wait in expectant silence 

To hear your mind turning 

Never thinking that it was still and resting 

I sit here, waiting, imagining it only to be time 

While you watch dreamy pictures of blackness 

I refuse to sleep now 

Knowing you're not being punished 

I shall impose a double agony on myself 

To spite you.

teenage rage

Scream and shout
call it out
spread it over and over
ears in corners
gaping mouths
fists flying
crying
will power - self control
silence forcing thought
down down
Into the muddling splashing stream of mind
drowned in tears, memories, kisses
Lost dead depressed
Empty

When I woke up and saw you gone

A dark and dampened room
cries for a life
A paper justifies the existence of that day
The weight of emptiness brings a table to its knees
and I to mine
My abuse tears the silence and knowing of that room
I weep and crack the void,
My stage has finally collapsed
it's foundations eaten away by my confidence
An actor with no lines
His absence has faded my script
I am left to ache inside, alone

half light

In the half light of a half moon
The man stood half naked
Undecided and faltering, he stood near
To tears with the uncertainty of the present moment.
Dressed in jeans and ladies shoes
He kissed the air and looked into space

His feet planted firmly on the ground

His mind open wide, - eyes rolling

Hands swaying gently by his side

He rocked viciously with the rhythm of the grass

"My body is fluid, I am without life"

LOSS (2/2/75)

Perhaps they may get mislaid! 

It's like losing your only child 

Because it's part of you It needed all your strength and emotion to be born 

And once breathing, written 

You watch it develop and grow in the reading 

Although it's the same and still is, as it was 

When you gave that final scream 

As all your pent up misery gushed forward and left your body empty 

And your mind light If that should be lost, 

The rest of my life would search to recall and always create and re-create what was seen only for the time it look to be born. 

I'll always feel, when seeing others, that 

Mine was the original 

But lost, and therefore , to you, untrue.

Oh baby

Varnish peels form the bathroom door
And friends become unstable
Radion appears on the kitchen sink
And co co pops come to the table
Monster mooses squat the fridge
And the bin is full with Nappy
And the thing that makes us buy all this
Is supposed to make us happy.
Oh baby Oh Baby
it's all because of you

An armful

I know it is an irresistible temptation To load as much of your discomfort on The friend who loves you most With every load you take to others You return with aching arms But every time you come to me I stretch out and carry half, half-way. I shall always do that when I'm with you But when I can no longer Then to you I shall be like all the rest And so will you

Pass it on

Come to the point where time is money
You've stood me up so
you owe me Honey
past the stage when the smile
comes natural
Must be provoked
By something factual
Something substantial
No more potential hits
If you want to come to me
SHOW ME YOUR BITS
If you want to come to me
I must see it in your eyes
If you want to come to me
Bring a surprise
If you want to come to me
Come unaccompanied
come armed
come weighed down
with promise

DOUBLE

I've found your double and he don't know its me 

He's going to show me 

What you wouldn't let me see 

I've found your double 

He's as cute as can be 

You'll have to work hard If you still want me  

You make me feel like I'm the one at a loss 

I make you feel like like you're the boss 

 I found your double 

He doesn't talk mean 

He says where he's going and shows where's been 

I've found your double 

I'm coming clean 

He's the cutest thing I've ever seen

SPIRIT CHILD

30.9.94

There is no tune that I can play 

Which can take the pain away 

My Spirit Child has flown this day and left me for another world  

There is no food I can prepare 

To nourish love and tender care 

My Spirit Child's no longer there S

he's left me for another world 

 There are no promises that I can make 

To hold together what's at stake 

My Spirit Child has made the break and left me for another world 

 Call from the world of reason 

Call from the land of trust 

Set down the weapons of treason and cry 

For the child that is lost.

HISTORY

In the course of History there is very little change over what seems normal and what seems strange. 

To the stranger with the woman

She's a pot of contradiction 

How she operates primarily like a heroine out of fiction She's fickle, she's feckless and she can't be trusted 

But the truth of the attraction is, 

That she's as hot as mustard. 

To the woman with the stranger he's a welcome relief From the vision of decay of her original belief 

He's tall he's firm, he's identical to the man she left at home. 

But she's tired of all the picking and has gone after another bone.

GLACIER

Sliding down a glacier see the mirrored wall

I'll have to forget the casket If I hope to live at all. 

I Wave my arms profusely 

To proclaim my plight 

I take a look behind me 

Three hundred more in flight. 

I look across the tread ways 

So few smiling faces. 

Heads bowed to the wind, hair greyed by the cold, Thinking of far away places . 

Oh for the joy of falling 

Once the trip has been made 

Bouncing from pillar to post 

Without chance of being saved. 

Someone holds a hook out 

It's looking terribly sharp. 

If I want it I must stick my foot out 

And pray to the man with the harp. 

Good grief, Alleluiah. Praise be to God! 

They call out in their terror 

It's a far simpler cry than having a try and catching a glimpse in the mirror.

The end

And so to the end
where each is like the last
for pressure of more to come
we see only what we have done
and not what yet is meant to be
of holy ways we recognise the path
and must resist the waiting at the gate
for every moment spent in no mans land
is lost for all who living be
when thinking of the end
we should encompass what has now
become and ever more shall be
Amen.

my castle cave

As I skip from room to room
entrails floundering, flaying
trying to pick the relevant
trying to expose the damned
As I alternate between
my high cloud castle
and my impenetrable cave
I wonder what the difference is
why in one I "see" I "Understand"
I feel the knowledge and can relax
why in the other, like some
starved black hole of consciousness
my ideas come teeming
from my curls tickling to my toes
They migrate to the cracks in the floorboards
and seep into the cellar below
each time i open the door and stand in
that quadruple aspect
I take a gasp and know,
I am in the wrong house,
there's nothing to be done.

SMUG

Is it more than once that I've sat outside waiting watching another mans world? 

Criticizing, comparing and thanking something for the wonders of my world? 

Isn't it more than once that I've pitied? 

It would be easier for them to be like me, 

I have such a thorough objective and fantastic outlook Sometimes I loose my patience with them 

They film their eyes with prejudices and subjective ideas 

Sometimes its not good to push them too far 

Once one foot is out of the mud the rest of the body whimpers at the comparison poor animals! 

How they sit in corners looking so thoughtful phew! maybe they even imagine that they are observing me criticizing comparing and thanking something for the wonders of their world!

the clamour

The clamour from the dream world
as souls struggle for the morning space.
the work catchers snatch it
they cant be seen for dust
the groaners who no longer remember why but just remember MUST
The moaners who miss it
again! they bemoan the consequence
the shriekers whose dreams are so vivid
they believe themselves to be there
and call for their prizes
but none are forthcoming
only their prophecies come true
that the rich get richer
and the poor just wake
to eat and sleep
doesn't it make you want to scream

Jack frost

I've Seen what your garden looked like
Before you built the wall
It got nipped in the bud by jack frost
And never grew at all

I've seen what you look like

with your clothes off

Why can't you leave it at that
Why must you wear those belts and things
That clinking clanking tat?

Where's the guy I met last week
I've been seeing an impostor
Who is the guardian of your gate?
I think he is a monster

Who is the guy with the spikes in his head
And the blades so rude at his shoes?
Is this your representative?
He's not the guy I'd choose

That you don't care

I didn't tell you what
You wanted to hear,
You didn't notice that
I was near
I didn't see what
was written in you eyes
We didn't say
"What a surprise"

Now you've gone wandering
over the hills
I've started taking ominous pills

You've gone out searching
For what isn't there
I've gone off thinking
That you don't care
That you don't care

But you said that I said
that that went and this didn't
I thought that you'd said
that that was forbidden

So I've missed the hot seat again
It just passed me by
I thought I had to look for
the green in your eye
I thought you didn't like me
What a surprise, what a surprise

shut the door

I suggested that the door close behind me
With a gentle shove
I leftmany passages behind the lock
They stare at me through one way glass
I only see myself in the mirror
To me they are like an interlude
In a dream
They are only suggestions in my mind
Maybe they knock and want to come out
Or worse still
To take me back in
Better that the door stand ajar
maybe this is just an interlude to that
Why does there have to be a door
Why a question?
Why a why?
Because it makes you think you think.

artist

Give me room,
Give me space,
I'm artistic
Don't look at my paper
Don't look at my face
I'm at work

Don't bug me
Don't bore me
I am fragile
You try to label
Then try to store
But I'm changing

Who gives a shit about Artists
Who cares if they are or they are not
The only reason for announcement
is to make sure you're secure of a grant

Just because they put pen to paper
Because we allot them as "they"
Some Tycoon with paper and pushing
Makes us believe what they say

So Stand by with your green stuff and vinyl
Come put your gold letters on me
my message for all parting admirers
"I wrote this song making the tea"

Theft

Hey diddle diddle
the cat's in the middle
the purse went over the wall.
Now that's a big diddle
Not just a s slight fiddle
and you say "there's no difference at all".
Tickety tickety tock
I'm having a race with the clock.
You're addicted to smack
and I smoke on your back
And my hearts been left on the lock.
I threaten to Jump
All hands to the pump
Dont call the coppers
Remember the whoppers
That come with the boy with the ball
the ball, that come with the boy with the ball.
Purse retrieved Me relieved Xtian's reprieved
the police can leave

Training

Today is a cold cold day
I have music in me
But no Keys
Is life really needing construction?
Must we train ourselves in order to improvize?
Why can't things come naturally
To train is surely to cheat
To train is to train is to train
Techniques, they come in every ear
Techniques timing, professional moves
Come from any corner
Who is interested in freedom?
Why can't music come straight from our
brains?
Love's the same.
Technique
Strategy
Careful planning
hide feelings
Then succeed
It's not true,
It's not right
But I don't ever ever ever win

Trust

I don't trust my words
thoughts or motives any longer
As I write, I force myself into
contortions of thought and speech
False, squeezed, muddled brains
sickening concoctions of ideas
the very thing that was to be avoided
"Thoughtful thought" Rubbish
I untie the rope to rational thought.

Sky girl

Halfway round the fish pond
Looking for the sea
Tried to build a boat
But no-one’s helping me
All can see I’m a sky girl looking for a bit of ground
I’m not picking up any signals
I’m not making the right sound
Blow my horn in desperation
It’s sounding terribly flat
The Keys are clicking and sticking
The neighbours can’t take that
Have to revert to chaos
Give some of my powers to chance
Hope they reform past the problem
Hope they’ll remember the dance
White lights flashing and searing
Powers and sensation galore
Still find a hot spot in the death pose
My ground space is here on the floor

LADDER (1980)

Don't think about what's going on
Above me,
And I'm on my way down fast.
Down, down, down the ladder,
Each rung looks better than the last

Down, down, down the ladder
Jumped up from the ground too quick
Didn't know what I was missing
So now I'm taking my pick
People up top've got too much worry
So I'm on my way down

And I'm in a hurry;
down, down down the ladder
Come back to the ground with a bang
Hit my head so soon forgot
The words of the song I just sang
Down, Down down the ladder
Boy I'm feeling bad,
That sure was
A spot of bad luck I had
Damn those people at the top there
Pushing and shoving at will
If it wasn't for their impatience
I'd be up there with them still.

Looking up gives me vertigo.

THIS DIDNT HAPPEN

Where am I ?

Where are you?

Who am I?

Who are you?

Why cant I find you ?

Why won't you make yourself known

Whats going to happen?

Will I find you soon?

Will I then feel better?

Will the questions go away?

Will I trust again in humans

Are we here again to stay?

Flick

I've seen the reel before they print the film
And its not my kind of flick.
I've seen them practicing their bits
And each one's trying to move me
I walked past the gates
didn't have a SHOW to pass  

No-one tried to stop me,
Walked past the prefabs
And the make-up tents,
Believed the stunt men 

(Thought they were real)
Showing off their tricks,
When I walked in they all turned to stare
Someone had a pencil of a kind,
A camera flash left me blind.. 

for a while
And there I am,
I'm holding typescripts

on screen

Some one's feeding me the lines

They want me to show it all

They say:

"If you want to get on babe

You have to learn to act 

(play the game)

You're not giving out at all"

I'm moved away and they carry on without me

Two stunt men spoiling for a fight

"Dig deep to your roots

And show us what you find

Bring out for all of us to see

If you want someone to hate

If you want to use a knife

Then babe just pretend its me

If you want to use a knife

Then babe just pretend its me."

I get confused, I try to walk away again

He takes me by the arm and shouts

Calls me a coward and a no good parasite

There's something dying inside me.

There's miles of land between me and the exit gate,

I have to strain my eyes to see

It looks as if I'm in another world

And I can't tell where's better

So I look at the reel before it's printed

I've got the future in my mind

I took a look at your movie

And it's not my kind.

TO HIM

 4/3/2000

One night I'll dream, 

You'll come to me with darkness as your veil 

And as I sleep 

You'll kiss my neck 

You'll come to me..my Male 

I'll dream you'll move in slowly 

From shoulder down to feet 

And as your heat waves start to spread 

Our bodies strain to meet. .... 

The Joy will be a silent joy 

With murmurs like the call 

Of a distant thousand creatures 

About to fly or fall. 

Our Union will be lengthy 

With no time to exchange the usual lovers pleasantries 

We'll keep the secret strange.

Father

Vigorously ignorant
as a child
I have the worlds riches;
Only I have no understanding of their values
And until such time as I do
Then shall I never posses them.
But in you, I entrust the agency of my child and have faith that you will guide me accordingly.
I apologise in advance and retrospect for any such action that might result in the loss of fortune either through willful intent, clandestine rumour or plain ignorance. I remain yours as you remain mine -Father.... your daughter.
Vivienne Elizabeth Pierette Bazille-Corbin

I FEEL A COLD CHILL (circa 79 )

I feel a cold chill run through my limbs 

As I, my heart and mind take leave 

Outside the season reflects my feelings 

Something beautiful is finished 

The dying is in itself romantic 

Something to be watched with wonder 

But the thought that soon everything will be bare, 

Open to the elements, 

No protection 

Makes me shudder 

The mornings hang a weight upon my eyes

The day passes cruelly, not giving me comfort

I try to concern myself with little things 

It's cold, cold, so cold, 

I can't get warm, 

The flame within me is dwindling, 

Is flickering 

It's cold so cold 

And the season changes. 

Nature, you are so experienced in this, 

I hope to learn to change so beautifully

And accept my fate.

AND YOU SLEPT

I gave birth 

And you slept 

I made food 

And you slept 

I did all the things a woman ought to do 

And through it all you closed your eyes 

And said you could sleep 

And you slept, through it all 

I met people, developed, and altered 

Through all this you slept 

When you woke at the end to find me changed 

You complained that I hadn't consulted you first 

And what was a friendship 

If not to grow on together 

Exchanging ideas and love 

What can I say...my darling? 

You slept like a baby, when without warning 

You woke and cried...like they do ...come to me.

ONE ACTION (20.10.79)

One action, one sound, one word 

Can be the trigger for a thousand different perceptions, 

So if you find you've changed your mind, 

You haven't, you've simply entered or perceived 

a new perception (dimension), 

One movement is ,therefore ,perfection itself 

It contains a facet, a hint of every level of understanding available. 

There is nothing that it fails to aknowledge, 

only you fail to receive. 

Receiving two or three 'perceptions' at a time leads to imbalance, confusion or even insanity

Because you are neither clear, (one) 

or full (cosmic) minded. 

Only when you perceive all, can you accept the few, 

the few are not acceptable, conceivable or assimilable without the all.

FULL BELLIED (1972)

Full bellied, 

half hearted , 

non mover. 

Such potential 

Yet so wasted 

What a body, lithe, waiting 

To show what it can do 

And you spoil it 

You and your mental slovenliness, 

Gives you a stiff neck and aching back. 

You sit in the middle of a circle. 

Every now and then pop to the edge 

Have a quick spin 

Does that excuse, or justify your lethargic? 

Sitting in the middle. 

But what of the middle space? 

Does it please you? 

And the visits to the periphery? 

Every now and then? 

Why do you sit there? 

No one forces you to occupy that space

You sit tight with the idea that soon you‘ll be more active 

That having stayed there for so long you‘ll be more active, 

You‘re wrong, 

You sit there because you‘re lazy 

You're lazy because you sit there

I Doubt...... it's true!

In every person there is a patch of doubt which is visible to those agents who have no other way of earning a living but through the manipulation of this point.

They can illuminate it, make attempts to dissipate it , heat it, freeze it according to their needs,. When you're hesitant about them as agents they show you how they can help you to overcome it. When you're with them they fool you that it doesn't exist anymore, but you can feel it and you stay agented in case the fear returns again so they can frighten it away. If you say you're leaving , they present it to you once again in all its fearful glory and make you realise that you can't cope with it on your own. The one thing they never do is to tell you exactly what it is. That way you could sort it out yourself and you wouldn't need them. These people have the greatest doubt of all, and that is that they can't serve in a world where there are no doubts, they keep you uninformed to hold you ransom to your doubt. The only escape is to locate this doubt yourself and exorcise it. For until you do you will never be free

leaving

I have a fear of leaving..
Open doors ...
Closed doors,
Doors which don't allow re-entry
I pack my things
I have a fear of leaving something vital behind,
Or taking something too important to be lost into the abyss of the future.
I have a fear of turning keys,
My own and those of others.
Opening boxes, Closing boxes,
Hearts
Safes which hold out and hold in.
I have a fear of finding some thing too precious not to persue
Or that the something precious
Has already been taken.

Alone

Alone, Alone.
Who left me alone?
The lights were all burning
but I was alone
The windows were rattling
The wind was at force,
Who left me alone here?
Why Mother of course.
She's gone out dancing.
The house is quite dead,
She couldn't have listened
To what I had said.
I hate all the echoes,
Floors creak and doors groan.
I hate the whole feeling of being alone

Paranoia prison

Some bastards got my man trapped inside their warped and paranoid mind. I only see him once in a while and I begin to wonder whether its worth the wait. A woman can’t wait for ever.
When I see him he’s smiling trying to spare me the agony of seeing the bars We both ignore them - pretend they don’t exit - so pleased to see each other , to taste the salt on each others lips. We don’t care sometimes, we hold onto the bars tightly so we can press our faces closer together and kiss - oh that kiss, that brief blissful kiss - that loving tender trusting kiss. But then the bastard always comes with the jangling keys and wraps the bars and all we are left with is the taste of each others saliva on our lips. We hear him coming, pacing down the corridor and from experience we know that the meeting is over, we flinch and remove ourselves fractionally, changing the colour of our eyes, drop the eyelids slightly and take one last cold, look.
And he’s in the room staring sadistically, this Is the best bit for him, he times it immaculately so he can savour every minute of private anguish. He Stands, slopes in a position of waiting, but we know the time is up. My man has already gone, worn out by the withdrawals of the past. He stands up, the warmth of his body has gone, and he’s waning, waiting, for the paranoia to take him back to his voluntary cell, convicting himself, convincing himself its what he wants.
“lets go” He sneers to the jailor”
“another two minutes” the jailor informs
“take the woman away” My man stands
“don’t go Yet”
“don’t go yet”! they cruelly mimic.
“I want to go now, come on man take me away from the woman” The Jailor smiles, passes his hands over his balls and gives them a quick squeeze
“one more minute”
“….ck off woman..” My man says
“just go”
I bow my head, I am helpless in this prison, I have no rights and he is a voluntary prisoner.

CUCKOO (circa 1982)

Like a Cookoo's egg, 

Some bird laid you in my nest. 

Being a mere sparrow, 

I didn't see the bird for the egg. 

And soon you're bracing up your shoulders, 

Puffin out your chest and sending all my nest eggs whistling into the abyss below. 

Now, how my chickens would have looked I'll never know.

The Middle

After escaping the role of the subserviant wife, life continued in the alps where even more fresh air, good food and kind spirits prevailed,

In the begining

There was an arrogant father, a privileged mother, a large house, fresh air and inspiring countryside. There were bars on the bedroom window, for safety, not confinement. The sun rose in the east magnificent above the golfing hills and set peacefully at various stages behind the first television booster aeriel in the country