I realised  my feelings were absurd

We all  have got the urge to power, to kill
Better go out now and make your will

Jesus was not meek nor was he  mild
God created tigers and  the wild

Why should people fear to say  they’re wrong?
Errors can  arise or come in gangs

I’d like to go to Bournemouth but I can’t
I see the mad profusion   so I’ll skype

I learned to play the cello I loved so
But other plans were made and I let go

The strings were made of gut and they were thick
I played with a long bow, or I could pluck

I did not wish to earn by using words
I realised  my feelings were absurd

I could have written books and  gone abroad
I could have worked at Bletchely breaking codes

I did not realise I was a girl
Despite the  bearing of some golden curls

I liked boys’ games but I am not trans
I like making cakes and washing tins
I liked men to  give warmth to my bed
Although my only true love is now dead
Am I  banned from meeting any more?
They fear my mind and run out of the door.


That we may  injure without knowing so

Like radioactive particles ,like seeds
Dropped in error,dropped in fields of  woe
Misunderstandings grow like torturing weeds

When anyone approaches, make them bleed
Let them know they’re neighbours to a war
With radioactive elements imbued

We may need help for  inner suicide
Will kill us or the helpers  near and far
  Misunderstandings like  a bomb, can bind

We cannot see the other too has needs
That we may  injure without knowing so
With radioactive sharps that  make eyes bleed

 From Moses in his basket in the reeds
To Dayan with his patch and his cigar
Misunderstandings like  real bombs,  will  many wound

In the sky above we see how far
Our broken souls are from the  evening star
Like radioactive metaphors ,like seeds
Errors bring forth agonies that breed





I have a docile phone

I have  a  glow smile phone for dating
I  have  a  snow  wild phone for going up the Pole
I have a no aisle phone when flying
My phone   has slow smile
What’s  up Nile phone,dad?
Not smart, but beguiling: the story of a  loving lady
I’ve lost my phone again.Well, it is quite mobile you know
I’ve lost my mobility and found my senility [ with sense and sensiblility]
I don’t need no iphone.I don’t need no coke.Send me a letter,French is how i poke
Oh,dear what can the matter be, some loon threw an iphone at me
O little town of wall and phones, how we see thee fall down

We  do not want to hear their their poignant calls

Everything is whirling round my mind,
The lack of government ,  the words unkind
That the poor are  short of food and  clothes
We deny it, everybody knows

Sudden gusts of wind  mock  these old trees
Does the  lure of nature  disappear
When  the butterflies have gone away
Yet the stinging wasps are here to stay?

Once tortured  now abandoned refugees
Can’t make phone calls,  have no mental ease
We make our own defences into walls
We  do not want to hear their their poignant calls

Oh,Lord God take the beam from out my eye
I want to know the  worst before I die