Silver Key

In the corner of the room there’s a cupboard with a door

And the cupboard with a door has a key,

The key to the cupboard is hidden in a drawer

And the drawer is only visible to me.

The drawer is in a chest that resides within my flesh

And it opens inwards running on two rails,

The rails are my truth and my passions since my youth,

Timely constant with a gradual unveil.

The key within the drawer, the drawer on the rails,

The rails that let the drawer in me glide,

Is silver’d and small, but, perhaps, best of all

It lets a part of me exist and live inside.

On the days when the key is needed for its task

To open cupboard up so I can see,

The rails may object, preferring circumspect,

But I oil them, they slide forth, releasing key.

The cupboard in my room is related to the drawer,

Structured from the very same tree,

It shelters life in measure, guards well all my treasures,

Is my forest in the rains, my canopy.

In the corner of the room where the cupboard with the door,

The door that calls to drawer, release the key,

Is a woman, cupboard tall, though inside she’s still quite small,

A drawer-sized child who looks a lot like me.

The child inside our chest still prefers the nest,

Snuggled in the drawer with silver key

But the cupboard in the corner of the room that we call life

Insists we open up to set ourselves free.

 

Parisian Sin

Add colours to your palette,

Greens and cobalt blue,

Yellows sourced from saffron,

Pigments of purple hue.

Dabble with the rainbow layered,

Brush upon the silk,

Breathe life into my picture,

Create me from paint spilt

Upon my skin, a tattoo’d blush,

Effusing limb to limb,

Your mark diffused in attic’d light,

Parisian in sin.

Spread, apply, with fingers deft,

Decree a new form born,

Unequalled art in tone and touch,

Picasso’d by lovelorn

Revisited each time to free

The picture held within,

Blend the magic twixt we two,

Masterpiece therein.

Unencumbered chaise and rug,

A naked revelation,

Smudged together, canvassed flesh,

Signed, ‘Love/Lust’, artist’s temptation.

 

Safety Net Optional

I never ‘got’ the the circus,

Never got the fascination,

Big tops and clowns,

Never got why waving chairs at lions

Held a crowd.

I never got, the one time I went,

Why trapeze artistes would associate

With such,

The smells, the noise,

Those clowns.

Rather fly high,

Higher,

Touch the sky,

Leap into oblivion,

Risk the fall,

Dare to dive,

Feel the air rush past,

Reach for hands,

Sigh

Upon touch,

Safety net optional.

I got the trapeze.

Always will.

 

 

For Science – ll

Earth date:- 6th March 2015

Last night was not one of Spain’s finest moments although I venture to suggest it will not be recorded in the annals of history by any of its contemporaries and only noted here. Their loss. In attesting to these findings I have duly taken note that the bouquet of the Spanish wine consumed was most pleasant, the taste on the palate equally so and that the requisite two glasses were consumed with ease.

This initial experiment proved to have positive beginnings when I succeeded in being asleep shortly after ten o’clock. Men In Black (version something) failed to hold my interest although I was impressed at Emma Thompson’s vocal impersonation of a Venusian in heat – at least, I think that’s what it was.

Unfortunately, for the purposes of the previously outlined experiment, it also has to be noted that I was awake again just after twelve, paid heed to the time, fucked a little under my breath and promptly fell asleep again. This was of short duration when I was awakened yet again just after one a.m. by my son ringing the house phone to request admission to the lab as he had forgotten his keys.  An unusual occurrence. Not the keys. The fact that the door was locked. It has become the habit over the years for last one in to lock up. This has resulted in the front door sometimes being left open all night. But not last night. I will not deduct marks from Spain for that particular awakening as it was not the fault of the country that my son is a plank.

As I write it is now coming up on two a.m. My go to drink at the moment is water and I will now attempt to catch the sandman’s coat tails before he pisses off entirely for the night….. to be continued.

Bloody hell! * 5.30a.m.

Geezabrek! * just after 6

Giving in – time up, anyway.

Spain will now unite with Italy in the lasagne stakes, a necessary addition to the dish, although one that always breaks my heart a little when adding to the sauce.

Apparently, cherry and damson are not conducive to uninterrupted sleep.

Earth date:- 26th March 2015

My findings are proving inconclusive and elusive. (Bugger! Rhymes!)

It should be apparent to anyone with an eye for detail that monitoring the experiment now entitled ‘Fucksakesletmesleep!’ has not been high on my agenda. I have failed to keep notes and have even failed to drink the requisite number of glasses per evening to substantiate any claims that might possibly have been made were I a more diligent scientist, advocate of homework or indeed drinker. Stephen-my-man-Hawkings must be birling at the lack of adherence to task and would, I’m sure, give me a rollicking for such neglect. (I’ve heard he likes a good swally. But that might just be a rumour. Started by me.)

Being someone who never gives up without a fight I have decided, this evening, to try again. I’m only doing this in the interests of my marriage and the now too often vacant space that lies to my left. (Well, when I’ve not sprawled there in my apparently neverending quest for more space, a better bit of bed and someone to fling a leg over.) The shadows evidenced on my husband’s face and the haggard look on mine as I cover the smudges of a morning are testament to the fact that sleep is ever elusive and fucksakeswhatsgoingongoodgriefgodalmightycharliebrownI’mdyinghere is now my favourite catch phrase – shortened, of course, to the aforementioned experiment title.

I am now of the opinion that my vitamin D levels are back in the toilet pan again and only a massive dose of unadulterated sunshine will see me right.

In exactly one week’s time I will be on holiday for two weeks and there had better be a sun shining high in my back garden. I have painting plans of the garden furniture variety and a couple of sun loungers calling my name. Pick me, pick me, I hear them cry from the garden shed. (Need to paint that fecker too.)

At precisely 2.30 p.m. – Earth time – I shall don my painter’s apron atop my scientist’s coat, open a bottle of red, splash some paint hither and to and test for road worthiness one of the two petulant loungers. And there had better be some fucking sunshine around, sunshine. Or there sure as hell will be plenty of wine.

I will bloody sleep again. ‘As god is my witness.’ ‘But I’ll think about that tomorrow.’

Right now, I’ve opened a Spanish number again. Got to give science and countries another chance, I think. So does Stephen. I’ve heard. Slainte, mark ll!

 

 

 

Extreme Measures

Having just finished watching a programme on the effects of austerity on some of the most vulnerable people in my country I have come to a new understanding of why people resort to extreme measures to counter injustice.

While corporate tax evaders, banks and corrupt politicians elude justice, the penalties and sanctions imposed for minor infractions of the benefits system – being late for an appointment! – hit to the stomachs of children, leave households without electricity or gas and force the sale of personal possessions to survive. Decisions on appeal drag on for months while poverty is compounded with mounting debt at the hands of franchises lending at exorbitant interest rates.

The divide is growing. It does not surprise me in the least that the people of Scotland are supporting in droves a political party that promises to do everything in its power to counter austerity measures imposed by policies this government and previous ones have forced on its citizens while doing nothing to address the real criminals in the crisis that has plagued the UK. A party that represents the only real social party left to offer any effective resistance to the suits that look out for each other.

The haves do what they like while the have-nots have ever less under a regime that would make any dictator proud.

Fuck austerity. I teach children whose lives ARE this programme.

Some will go to Jamaica and Tenerife for their Easter holidays. Some will wonder if they eat. The divide is in my classroom. The evidence of the divide is on my TV, in my newspapers, on blogs I read, in the untruths perpetuated in news and programmes that make criminals of victims while allowing the real criminals to continue on their course of profit at any cost.

I am not a member of any political party at the moment. I am a member of the human race and the day I can’t empathise with my fellow man – most specifically, the children – is the day I will vote for Tories or the now recognised Red Tories, hitherto known as the Labour Party.

If there is anyone who reads this who may ‘fear the onslaught of the SNP’, ‘the tartan terrors’ or whatever other name is being used to denigrate that party, if anyone believes that all who vote for them are only interested in ‘splitting the union’ think again.

The real reason SNP are gaining in popularity is because they are the main party in Scotland to represent what Labour have abandoned.

They actually give a shit which is more than can be said for many in the previous duopoly. They have my vote. Not for being extreme- they’re not extreme enough for me. But right at this moment they are the best option the whole of the UK has to redress the balance by at least offering some resistance to what is currently a crime being allowed to run rampage.

Austerity is a crime against children and families. And I will not stand for it.

Extreme doesn’t begin to describe what I feel after watching this programme.

Yes, I understand better why people take drastic actions to counter injustice.

Mine will be within the letter of the law. But some laws need changing. Soon. Very, very soon.