It’s not written by my conscious self yet when I read my writing I recognize myself.
Sometimes I amuse myself
It makes me happy or angry or sad
When I can’t do it I feel deprived but sometimes I can’t tune in
Maybe I don’t have the energy for it.
Sometimes I’m very surprised by what I’ve written it hardly believe that I wrote it.
The something about the present world that’s not good for writing
Where there a wars in other countries that I was here between fellow countrymen between friends
130,000 people were killed when in the bombing of Dresden but how many people think about that now
That can be a joy in destruction if you feel you have an excuse for it but those were all people human beings children trying to find some shelter from the war
How many died in the Bosnian war in 1995? It’s not just the numbers it’s the way in which it was done.
It’s the Us and Them that’s so dangerous
Pray father give me your blessing
Through my fault through my fault through my most grievous fault.
The pleated skirts that teachers used to wear
The tight permed hair, the handbag and the pearls
The words we heard when we learned how to swear
With words we threw out what we could not bear
Then simpered by the window lips uncoiled
The fleeing minds that we dare not declare
The worst came out and everybody stared
My head was turned, inside my mind still whirled
The muck we heard when we first had to swear
Now we wear our jeggings, pleats are rare
Yet there’s elegance in skirts that swirl
Depleted teens with beauty gone awry
We did some Hardy and into Shakespeare tore
Now we read Ted Hughes and Sylvia’s pearls
The midden reeks,hate makes the goldfish swear.
The gold rimmed glasses in the mist and murk
The hairnets, the control, the constrained smirk
The worn out books, the turning of the years
The words of joy and woe, we learn our prayer
If I were a cat I’d be quite sure
That every living creature walks on feet
The goldfish I that I capture when allured
Are not alive although their eyes look sweet
If I were a cat I’d sleep all day
Not waste my time with humans and their talk
I cannot see a god so I won’t pray
But every night I’ll go out on a stalk
If I were a cat I’d sniff their beds
When my owners left me all alone
I’d bite and scratch if there were a loose thread
And make the duvet stand up like a throne
I would not ever ask for what I want
Nor give a hint of pleasure nor of joy
If they cannot guess,I shall them taunt
I’ll sulk until they get me a new toy
I do not care to sit on human laps
Nor for them call me sweetie pie
Sometimes I have let my temper rip
Sometimes I mioaw, I tell a lie
I’m beautiful ,I’m handsome,I’m divine
And as I look I see the whole world’s mine
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