Shhh! Don’t Tell!

31 August, 2007 at 18:09 (Uncategorized)

‘Come over here, your mother is out,’ Dad said to me,
Listen to this.’
And I did, and it was so beautiful,
‘Your mother is out, don’t tell her love,’ Dad said to me,
So I didn’t, and it was so beautiful.
But what he wanted to listen to,
What I thought was so wonderful,
Made him sad, made him melancholy and made his mood bad.
Like mine gets sometimes.
Self-causing, like all misery,
Self-perpetuating, like all downers.

Under-cover of secrecy I called Blue Eyes,
Never letting my mother, or anyone know.
Under-cover of secrecy I slid into Ulster Road,
The house where the man I loved lived,
As did she, slightly psychotic witch (by reputation only).
Under-cover of secrecy I let another Blue-Eyes kiss me,
He’s getting married soon,
He got very annoyed when I let slip to his fiance,
That he had kissed me on a bus,
And so, me, who prides herself on open-ness,
Allowed him to kiss me in secret,
She wasn’t his fiance then,
so what did it matter that I didn’t let on,
he was concerned with his reputation.

So, I dislike secrecy, I dislike immorality,
What conclusion can I then reach about my current state of confusion?
‘Come over here, your mother is out,’
I’ve always liked bad boys,
Boys on the outside entirely respectable,
Boys on the inside, who smile that wicked smile,
Boys that I can dally with, but only a little while.

I think my father is no Otto Plath,
But his effect on my life is profound,
No secrecy, no immorality for me, except in inverted commas,
Sailing a little close to the edge,
But everything above board,
Everyone knowing everything is less wearing.
Dad always encouraged me to ask questions,
Tell it like it is, he said,
Though later he demanded tact,
It was asking a question that caused,
The primary disillusionment of my adolescence,
The wrong question at the wrong time,
And my mother saw.

My body is imperfect, my mind is still bruised,
I wonder if all my sex games are simply about,
Looking for a man who won’t lose control,
Who knows enough, to keep me quiet when I won’t shut up,
Bring me over the edge only when he knows I’ve had enough.
‘Don’t tell your Mother,’ he said,
So I let all of these bad boys have their moments of happiness,
Even though it’s bad for them I pretend,
I’m doing some good, somewhere,
Letting them have their way,
For just a few moments, just a day,
And when, they want their way always?
I have no script for that,
I simply do not notice, just like I didn’t with Dad.

‘Listen to this,’ and I do,
And it’s always so beautiful too,
But there it ends, it has to end,
I live moment to moment, and I love making new friends.
‘Come over here, your mother is out,’
It wasn’t just the secrecy I loved,
It was the fact he was sharing with me,
The music that mattered to him,
And I wanted, oh how I wanted to know,
Exactly what moved him so.
Still now, I want to see, what it is that matters to you,
Doesn’t matter what matters to me,
Because, when it comes down to it,
Thats why I paint, why I write,
Then you can choose to look or not,
All that matters is I’ve written it.

Last time I didn’t notice,
when someone wanted their own way,
At the expense of mine, it ended on Briary Street,
With both of us pulling our hair,
And crying and bleeding and bruising,
Just like it ended with Dad,
He still tells me things,
But I tell Mum what he’s said, usually,
None of it really matters now,
She can choose to hear it or not,
As always.
Perhaps I was spoiled by years in Japan,
Got my own way,
No man distracted me,
The bad boys over there were by my own invitation,
On my land,
and I think the sex games,
have nicely lined borders of their own.

The thing is, my Dad, gave me a weakness,
For letting people do their own thing,
and when I’m doing my own I think this works pretty well,
in other words I’m twenty-five,
An adult in my own right,
and I think that if I can’t ask Dad those questions,
I need to stop asking other people as well.

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Myself, Yourself

31 August, 2007 at 17:07 (Uncategorized)

If I did not want this,
It would not happen.
The question of whether this is good for me,
Is another thing entirely.
Never the less, you cannot seek to blame another.

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Of The Gorgons

30 August, 2007 at 22:35 (Uncategorized)

The free women who live in the wood,
And share their sight as between sisters,
The golden-winged women,
At sight of whom mortal man does tremble no more,
I would speak with the sisters,
Claim perhaps their tongue to speak with,
If only I could move, further into the wood,
To fly with the golden wings,
Ensnare without guilt by snaken fangs,
And wear boars tusks openly, without shame.
The free women who live in the wood,
I would speak with if I could,
But I stand here still,
As stone, unable to move.

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30 August, 2007 at 20:46 (Uncategorized)

Where to find a self?
Is it trapped then, within the folds of skin like petals?
Or should I ignore the gross flesh,
Go sit amid the silent towers until I see it torn from my bones,
And I am nothing.
Where to find a self?
Is it contained so easily within Greek Myth,
as some would have us believe,
Am I simply enacting as Hestia, Hera, Demeter or Aphrodite did?
Nothing more to me than emergence from Chronos,
And return to him at the appointed time,
Forever within my life asking,
‘Which line is it now? Which line?’
Where to find a self?
Trapped in some jar I put away with the jams,
A year or so ago,
More spiritual than physical and selfish still,

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Sign Post

30 August, 2007 at 18:33 (Uncategorized)

‘What? Back here again?’ said the demon in the forest,
‘Back here so soon after I pointed to the way out for you,
Showed you which way to go. What happened then?’
I mumbled and looked at my shoes,
Looked at the grass growing there,
I mumbled and looked at my feet, kicking off my shoes,
‘It would go so much better for you,’
Said the demon, ‘If you weren’t split in two,’
I looked up,
‘Well look at you,’ said the demon,
Parting my flesh with his sharp pointing finger,
Almost cleaving it from my bones.
‘All alone, souless you are, easy for me to own.’
I began to look around for a soulmate.
‘Oh come on,’ he said, sat on his highplace,
Within the forest glade,
‘Come on,’ he said, ‘I know you’re more intelligent than that,’
‘And we made a bargain years ago,
you’ll not want a soulmate for that!’
If not a soulmate then what? I demanded, looking into his eyes,
And they burned and held mine.
Not a soulmate, he said, a completion, and end to this stupid quest,
I’ve showed you the way before, he said,
But I’m getting fed up of you back here,
and frankly my mouth needs a rest,
So he sucked out my internal organs,
replacing them with ones of his own flesh,
And they burned and they burned and they burned,
‘We have a deal,’ he said, the demon,
‘Remember that next time you come back. The way outs over that way now’
I followed out the tiny creatures,
the ants, and the beetles and all,
Finding them eaten by hedgehogs,
At the end of the forest I saw,
Something with wings and no features, laughing at all this death,
‘Pay attention,’ whispered the demon,
‘Because that ahead is your rest.’

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To The Woman With Five Sons

29 August, 2007 at 16:34 (Uncategorized)

You saw, and you understood,
Oh how you shook your head,
At her foolishness,
Every dance she went to, at thirty,
Hoping for a man,
But you knew, all the sacrifices you’d made,
And you understood the bargain,
Perhaps a little too late.
For love, in Japan, is a bargain,
More so? Less so? Than it is here.
And how you understood what I said,
And how you nodded and smile and inclined your head,
Female identity is understood and never questioned,
And the bargain is accepted,
And known about,
Here perhaps, it is only hidden.

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The Lady In The Lake

29 August, 2007 at 15:03 (Uncategorized)

She sees out, she hands over the sword,
And she inspires, but, what of her own life,
What happens beneath the surface of her lake,
When she retires to the depths,
All we see of her is surface,
And all she looks out upon is wide open sky,
The reflections from below, shine within her surface,
The water that keeps her from the open air,
Some degree of pain should be felt,
Upon her diving, upon her leaping, upon her swimming
Or discovery of other-self.

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26 August, 2007 at 22:48 (Uncategorized)

The mirror dissolves as the pool is rippled,
By bathers swimming naked through the waters.
And all thoughts of reflection are gone,
As the bathers swim together,
Two halves of a whole ripple across the pool,
Gone in a flash as both dive,
The cool water could be anywhere,
But it is here, deep in the woods,
Deep beyond where the darkness lurks,
And the depths of the pool encourage bathers to dive,
Oh but beware, when the mirror dissolves you have gone too deep,
Do not be afraid, walk these woods,
We are a million miles from home,
But the waters are cool and clear here,
And I’m about to dive.

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Waking Up

24 August, 2007 at 16:02 (Uncategorized)

Waking up,
Gradually becoming aware,
Of the room around me.
There is something here you know,
She left me dry,
She left me so dry,
I didn’t know how deserted I felt,
How much I miss her still.
Everything I have done,
I still want to please her,
Still striving to take back,
Everything that I have done.
Waking up, still dry,
My awareness returns with the morning.

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A Little Love

21 August, 2007 at 17:21 (Uncategorized)

My arms are right here, if you want,
I rather you felt happy,
But my offer is momentary,
These moments fleet back to reality,
Between the scenes we’re fine, but now and then,
It’s our stories that seem too much,
Rest in my arms a little while,
Smile for the cameras later,
Do it for yourself right now.

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