Merino wool caresses lover like
When we are alone and have no mate.
Even wool cannot converse with man
As useless as that bold great copper pan
Conversation, narrative our skills
Stories can be kept to aid the will.
Wrapped in wool of sheep we shall survive
Stories are what keep the soul alive
Dandruff, menstruation ,acne , scent
Posted on September 23,
Dandruff, menstruation ,acne , scent
Deodorants,shampoo and strange new thoughts
The anxious adolescent in torment
Tampons,towels. skin care and defence
Confession, absolution, count for naught
Dandruff, menstruation ,acne , scent
Wet and dry the dreams are wryly bent
We wake confused from what we never sought
The anxious adolescent in torment
The virtues and the vices must be learnt
The will and the desire cannot be bought
Dandruff, menstruation ,acne , scent
Parents’ words our own strength can augment
But for the nervous, it is much too late
The anxious adolescent, the torment
“Civilised”. we might just kiss a date
Until we lose our heads and challenge fate
Dandruff, menstruation ,acne , scent
Poor adolescent in this crazed torment
I slept right the centre of our bed
Instead of in that mouldy sleeping bag
I slept so near the edge it wore away
And I slid to the floor one night last May
In the middle all alone the space seemed large
No-one there to hold me in their arms
I did not read a book,I was worn out
Pondering on the means and on the doubts
I’ve been lonely like a little child
That mother sent to Office in a file
Waiting for the “open now” command
Will I get to heaven or be condemned?
The file is cold,the Word has little shame
Not guilty of my lack of love and name
I got Office 35678
I can ‘t make attachments , it’s too late
The world collapsed upon me like a cliff
I fell down this dirty yellow rift
Nobody could hear my screams and yells
Perhaps being truly dead may be less hell.
I crawled into my bed as into arms
Solid reassuring, warm and calm
I lay there in the middle , tried to pray
I can’t believe you’ve really gone away
I pray for all my family by name
My sister, brothers,cousins and the lame
I pray for readers who send notes to me
And for that random apple on the tree
I pray for friends who don’t believe in God
I pray for others ,mentally down-trod
Then I feel at loss and dream of you
Polishing my old black boots anew
Still I feel the emptiness inside
When I wake I think I feel your smile
Yet it’s not the same as being enrobed
In the arms of one who has great love
I guess we change but slowly and with pain
Like the folk who marched, their hope Remains
How my heart sings 