Ring a ring a rosie
Don’t get so cozy. A tissue. A tissue ? You’ll want one soon.
That’s me dancing rings around you.
Oh you think you’re so clever?
You got me. You got me. You get me ?
Nah uh silly rabbit.
You’re no brain for this mighty chain.
I know, I know you liked me at first
Your intentions were good ?
Not good enough my sweet.
To the middle where you belong
Sing your song. The one you sing to us all
But I won’t fall. For it. For you. Forever.
I see the workings of your selfish heart
Written all over your gormless face
Different girl. Different place.Getting away with it again ?
Not this time. Not this chump.
Different type of human here.
You’re in my circle now
And you’re all alone.
I see werewolves in my sleep
Creatures that change with the moon
Just like me.
A howling force to be reckoned with.
Do you hear the pulsing tide?
There is a splashing sensation that will carry blood on its back.
Come now to the door and howl with me.
Not a whimper nor a simper
But a full blown, lung-fuelled roar.
Because there is more. Always more.
Can you hug the blood of me ?
There is a need so deep that only the excavation of bone will do.
Dig my dear.
Love the entrails of me because they have been abandoned of late.
I fear you all are more in thrall with the light cover that shields the rest.
So I ask you to bury down past the soft yielding outer layer.
The one that pleases the eye and fingertips.
Kiss and love beyond the lips and curvy hips.
Sink into the dirt of me.
Land in quicksand but stay still
Then I know you will
Stay. Forever. Stay.
“Why do you write?” He said
The words echoing in my head
Why wouldn’t I ? Why wouldn’t I ?
To let you in
Or keep you out ?
Do I write to shout ?
Look at me. LOOK at me.
Is that why I set pen to pages
To last through the ages?
For this ?
A few words casting only a few sparks.
No Heaney or Shelley
No Wordsworth or Keats.
No wins or defeats
Just me. Just me.
Just a word without the S to make it sharp.
Doctor Imposter in a shower of pain
Always the rain.
But what would I do without it ?
Where would my soul go if not to fill a gap among the many lines.
So I write to fill up a space.
Both inside and outside
I always have and I hope I always will.
There’s a long luscious list of reasons we should
But a jagged emporium of poisonous consequences
Jars upon jars upon shelves upon walls
Filled with outcomes. Black outcomes.
They swirl around like mini-galaxies
Holding us both hostage to our decisions.
It’s not just one you see?
All the things that led us here
A million ways we can go wrong
Let’s sit here for a while. On the safe floor.
In the room without a door.
Where the only way out
There are no surprises for a writer
Just the outcome of one storyline that we had already imagined.
It is both our curse and cure.
To never be sure
But always certain that the winds of change will blow our curtains
Wide. Wide. Wide.
The worlds we create sweep far beyond you.
To see what is possible and to guess the impossible.
The magic of it all.
Life has us in thrall.
No you didn’t ambush me.
I saw it a million miles away.
Silly you behind a bush.
Hush. Hush. Hush.
No shock at your roadblock.
A writer has hope is all.
Hope that the right tale is the one our lives will take
But if not , we won’t break.
We’ll go around and about.
We’re weavers and believers.
Ah yes but it’s all a dream isn’t it ?
Don’t ever be smug
That you pulled the rug
From underneath me.
I put it there and I didn’t tie it down.
The biggest lesson you taught me
Is that it is possible to breathe.
It is possible to walk about and eat and sleep and touch and laugh and squeeze out tears.
It is possible to play the part
But have no heart.
You taught me about a new breed
Who walk among us folk
You think we’re the joke ?
I suppose we are.
We are cursed by the need to understand people like you
The other kind who
Hurt and harm, with a well crafted charm.
But more than hurt you have taught me pity
Because you didn’t just fall to earth.
You are man-made, my dear
This persona borne of fear.
The love that is allowed thrive for most of us
Must have been beaten out.
So I forgive you though you don’t actually care
The truth is I forgive myself.
Forgive myself for being ever pissed
With yet another narcissist.