The Bells Have Made Me Deaf

Upon my pedestal I sit
Subdued, almost the lion tame
And stare out at the world through bars
In this arena of my shame
Then in comes striding, Mr Sin
And postures to the crowds delight
With chair in hand and cracking whip
Atired in his false suit of white

Temptation stands before me now
He cracks the whip but shall I dance
Performing to the tune he calls
With subtle prods to change my stance
I feel the whispers of repute
The emptiness of silent wrongs
What use is there in defiance
The mockers gather in their throngs

While I am bound within this cage
I’m subject to his chair and whip
In my humiliation seek
An exit from his heartless grip
Some day, I know strength will return
And while the mockers stand and scoff
When Mr Sin enters my jaws
I’ll bite his swollen head right off

© 14th June 2002

I remember the smell of her night cream
I remember the soap on a rope
I remember the box of Black Magic
I remember the cigarette smoke

I remember the things in her bedroom
And the cosy warmth of her bed
The big bolster pillow and one at the wall
To stop me from hitting my head

I remember the clothes that she made me
I remember the novels she read
Mills and Boon and Agatha Christie
And Zane Gray’s under the bed

I enjoy all the things I remember
And regret all the things that I cant
I remember the kindness and love that she gave
With affection, my wonderful Aunt

© 19th October 2002

He always comes
to rock my boat
He never rows
Or helps me float
Just rocks my world
from side to side
And when I’m almost
Captured once again
Within the rhythm
Of the sway
He’ll capsize it
and leave me sinking.

© 11th August 2002

I am not she
The one you want to punish
I am the scapegoat
For unresolved emotions.
Why burden me with expectations
That I can only claim as hope?
You deny a relationship that hasn’t happened
Which makes me think
It’s what you really want
But fear.
You run in circles
Chasing your tail
Getting dizzy and confused.
I can only wait until you stop
Or fall over
And start to focus on reality.
Maybe then you’ll know
That time has no means
To dull sincerity’s edge.

© 17th June 2002

Today I picked some roses, to remind me how to smell,
Enbibe the scent of sweetness, breathing deep, I was compelled
To caress the satin petals, that were tinged with gems of dew
and rebuke the viscious thorns that gripped my skin in bondage true
So wickedly entwined in them, I had to pay a price
A little blood was shed today by way of sacrifice
For a bunch of golden roses, in all their glorious bloom
To adorn the little table near the window in my room

© 12th June 2002

If only tears were in my eyes
And I could cry.
False pity always to the fore
I ask, what am I lying for?
What?
Who knows?
Apart from me, that is.
For I do know, alas too well,
The self I am and should never have been.
I walked and sometimes ran
Along this road to hell.
But here I am
With helpful hands and hints,
The stares and flabberghasted face,
But worse, much worse, the love embrace.
Is it wrong to want to be myself
Or must I lead my sheltered life
Forever in that well intending love embrace?
Protected from my life so much
I break away through lies, false truths.
Too late, almost, to change my route.
Too late shall be the answer
Though no question has been asked.
I cannot hurt my mother
So, I hurt myself,
And you,
For now, poor dear,
You know me too.
Oh, if only
If only I could cry.

© 20th October 1980.

Where ends the sea of sorrow?
On some horizon forever distant?
Who can see the moment
When the ocean touches sky?
Though travelling onward
It remains out of reach.

© 29th July 2002