Category: Textual Encounters

February Subterfuge

It’s that time again

When people send cards that aren’t signed again

And declare undying love in vain

It’s that time again

It’s that month again

When people tell you what to buy again

The flowers and chocolates and perfume drain

It’s that time again

It’s that place again

When people in pubs make you buy roses again

For that date you hardly know again

It’s that time again

Days of unrequited love will take its toll

Too much wine and stalking is bad for the indigestion

Don’t put too much stake in romance without reciprocity

I heard it’s bad for the complexion

It’s that hope again

Where people are thinking of sex again

And some of it, not just in the brain

It’s that time again

It’s deception again

When two people are apt to feign

The best known movies of John Wayne

It’s that time again

It’s that dream again

That Valentine’s Day of Insane

To get to the 15th without sprain

It’s that time again

Is this an insincere day

Or is this the romance of a century?

Maybe today, with you

I’ll find out for sure

Days of unrequited love will take its toll

Too much wine and stalking is bad for the indigestion

Don’t put too much stake in romance without reciprocity

I heard it’s bad for the complexion

Dancing In December

Dancing

Dancing to the tune of the old year

To the memories it hopes it will hold dear

Twirling around on the big floor

Dancing in December again

Dancing

Hoping the footwork will be strong

Swaying along to the same song

Hoping the spin is not too long

Dancing in December again

Dancing

Twirling to all of the days left

Weaving away from the bereft

Hoping the rhythm is well met

Dancing in December again

Hoping

Lunging and dipping and lilting

Trusting the sequence not stilted

Nothing out here has been filtered

Dancing in December again

Dreaming

Keeping a balance that’s good now

A nice hold, and then, I don’t know how

But a perfect and dignified low bow

Dancing in December again.

Letting Go

The possibility of letting go

Is not there for the few

It’s a viable road to peace

Something we can do

Transcend the pain

Of anger and rage

Take tentative steps

Out of the cage

Letting go is within our grasp

Resentment, rejection, dejection – alert!

They all come under the heading of hurt

Forgiveness is possible

You don’t have to budge

Remember to protect yourself

But don’t hold a grudge

As grudges have a way

Like a scorpions sting

Of turning right round

And clipping out wings

Letting go, you know

It’s good for our health

And may even provide

A spiritual wealth

Letting go of fools gladly

A willow that bends

Will help with our progress

And knit us to mend

Remember the energy

Through them, that we lost

A cliche, but still

Remember the cost

Time to get rid of the debris in tow

Dump it into the dustbin

Labelled – Letting Go

Space-The Final Frontier

Had to move some furniture out of my brain today

A dog eared three piece suite was in the way

An old oak sideboard up against the hippocampus

Time to clear the dust and all the fretting fuss

I’ll get a lockpick made for the hypothalmus

In the olfactory bulb, I’ll put some fresh roses

A feather duster to sweep away the neurosis

I’ll decorate down the corridor in the cove

Get some swatches for the temporal lobe

But to be honest, my first thought is

To make a light and airy cerebral cortex

I’ll put some curtains in the pituitary

And where troubles jostle for supremecy

I’ll try to find that lock without a key

Those piles of worries have been there since year dot

One man and his van could rid me of the lot

Declutter, you mustn’t hoard inside your head

And hide the dark and dour under its bed

Seek shiny clean and everything in its place

Functional and minimal brain space

Got grief relief by sweeping it under the rug

The sadness and the loss that wouldn’t budge

I’ll move this furniture round and about

I’ll get a skip and bring it out!

In the frontal lobe now, not so many falls

No knees and elbows banging into walls

Stumbling in the amygdala was a fight

I got some lighting on the stairs to make it bright

And now, I’m slowly finding that

There is some room in here to swing a cat

I will always strive and try to find

That elusive, peaceful feng shui of the mind

Feel Something

Feel something

Anything

Just something

I breathe the words

Into your zombie like mind

Powerful

Strong

Heartfelt

I breathed the words

Into you

To shake you up

To stop you self destructing

Or, at the very least

To bring you back

From the brink

Of nothingness

The emptiness you feel

Through childhood trauma

And then, as your adult life

was threaded through that,

always got you thinking,

you are worthless

Never good enough

You tuned out

when you were young

And you kept up

the self defence

Mechanism

Even when it wasn’t needed or beneficial

because that is nature

You did what you had to do

to survive

You tuned out.

But now…

Things are bad aren’t they?

You’re losing the plot.

Are you dying?

Feel something

Feel something

I said it over and over again

And the shock and surprise

on your face

As you were shaken

From your stupor

Was dramatic

Shock. Surprise.

Be shocked. Be surprised.

Wake up

Feel Something.

Thank you Ma’am

The Queen has gone to heaven

The King now reigns on earth

He has known that this would happen

It was planned straight from his birth

Seventy years on the throne

Steadfast, strong and never loud

Wise and gentle, like a friend

Thank you Ma’am, you did us proud

You left us just as summer ended

Where you are going, you won’t need a coat

You’re off to pastures green and new

I’ll miss you on the twenty pound note

I’ll miss your calm demeanour

I’ll miss your consistency

I’ll miss your beautiful smile

There are many millions like me

The acorn doesn’t fall far from the tree

But leaders like you, can there be others?

I hope and pray King Charles The Third

That your reign is as great as your mothers.

There was a horrible face at the window

There was a horrible face at the window

It was a face of enormous self doubt

It said, ‘I’m getting married tomorrow

Will my beloved be going without?’

I said, ‘Explain, please do. I’m confused.’

They said, ‘Woe is me. I’m lost. All at sea.

I’m afraid I don’t have the heart

And for their heart, I don’t have the key.’

‘It’s okay, I see what’s going on here.

Come in and take a seat

It’s all a storm in a teacup

I think you’re just getting cold feet.’

They said, ‘I can’t see the future too clearly.

I think I won’t be much good

What if the marriage is all a disaster

And my love is simply a dud?’

‘Your fears are all an illusion

Care not,’ I said, ‘Do not afear.

Your marriage will be a long and good one

I tell you-your cupid is here.’

They said, ‘You don’t understand, I’ve lost the ring!’

‘Oh, so that’s why you’re so low!’

They said, ‘Yes, and it cost a fortune.

They’ll be mad, I am sure, I’ll just go!’

‘No, don’t go in haste, I’ve a plan

Take this bracelet and bend it just so

It’s just tin and worth nothing at all

But if they love you, they won’t say no.’

So they went away and tested the theory

And got married, the horrible face did

And they were happy, ever after, from then on

And we both kept the secret quite hid

From this day, they are so blissful

They never found the ring though

But whenever they come to visit

There’s a beautiful face at the window.

March To The Beat Of Your Own Drum

The orchestra will try to make you

Change your tune

You don’t have to keep in time

Or even be heard

Above the cacophony

As long as you hear your own music

Feel the rhythm

Love the style

And enjoy the way

It makes you feel

The artistic director may try to

Turn you around

Conduct you

And make you toe the line

Find musicians more to your liking

Ones that share the same tempo

And can keep in time to your beat

As you keep in time with theirs

And let you do a solo now and then

Make and play the sort of music

That allows you to change key

Without warning

It has to be that way

Or, all your life

You’ll be out of tune.

It Happened In The Attic

Below the belt of this old house, it’s cold

Numb and still, and finally, got old

It doesn’t have a creak or moan

There are no stairs in this old home

And in the footsteps, no stories will be told

But the top of this old house, it shines bright

Its restless light won’t allow the night

Electricity-you hear its hum

It can’t switch off, it’s always on

This lonely one, just won’t give up the fight

The action is all happening upstairs

There’s a ghost that sits up there and dares

To dream of things that never came to pass

Of memories, that still hold hard and fast

It’s firing on all cylinders-don’t look down

Hopes and goals could still come back to town

Love could wipe the tears away

Of manic, laughing clowns this day

That in the past, were only going to drown

It happened in the attic, that cold night

Thieves planned to steal, and leave, without a fight

They had thought the job would be

oh, so soft

They hadn’t bargained

on the old one, in the loft

Now inventions, are created, thick and fast

They’ll see the flames explode the attic glass

The sparks they fly, and shake the building too

And they’ll be fireworks for anyone in view

The thieves didn’t get a chance

to steal

And rub on open wounds

that never learned to heal

Now, inside the attic,

there’s a glow

And the warmth into the house,

begins to flow

And bring back life into the soul,

that they all said,

was abandoned, boarded up, and left for dead.