The old folk not at home

They are like some other beings altogether

the cry more animal than human

The wordless pathos,


They have gone back to a troubled and unimagined infancy

but no mother responds to such a nightmare of overgrown voice boxes

the cry of a rabbit wolf in a trap

it’s the shriek in the wall cry of a baby in a psychotic nightmare.

Nicholas haunts Sylvia in the evocative memory of Ariel

And so it will end for you and me

Trapped in this old body with its old brain

on and on they cry

help me, help me,help me

nurse nurse

I want the manager I want the manager

I don’t want to be here I don’t want to be here

I want to go home

Help me

we don’t listen because they have dementia

what they say has no meaning.

that’s our defence

I am the norm

You are abnormal

but you smiled when I asked you if you would like your hair dyed pink

and I know you love the music therapist.

Your smell repels


Is this where Jesus dwells

If you did this to the least of my little ones, you did it to me. We

you haven’t forgotten about Eros

you are still hoping to find love

you are not dead yet but you can’ wait to go home

I welcome comments and criticism

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