I saw who you were;
no empathy,
no vision,
no virtue,
that’s sure.
You went to her place
and took her to bed,
then left her alone for the night,
no phone call for days.
Too busy?
What goes on in your head?
And then you show up at her party,
not even a kiss at the door.
You dance with another girl
and leave her to watch from the walls.
You claim that you have a heart.
Where do you keep it?
Tucked away in your balls?
Now in the kitchen,
over a beer,
you tell me you love her.
It’s clear
that you don’t even know where to start.
Your arrogance sets you apart.
When I look in your eyes
they are dead.
party
We Can Dream in the Dark
Some people share joy, some spread defeat,
By placing small obstacles under our feet.
Any small weapon for them will suffice,
Any device that comes to their hand
Will be used with full force when they can.
I’m flat on my back, stunned, on the floor,
but I too have a weapon, I dream in the dark,
so I’ve turned off the lights and opened the door.
Putting guards on our the windows shuts everyone out
And that’s never been what this house is about
Words have been spoken that filled me with doubt,
Thoughts have been scattered and tumbled about,
They crept round our building dispelling delight.
The carpet was swept from right under our feet,
So I stare at the ceiling and wonder all night
What we ever did to cause such dislike.
Putting guards on our the windows shuts everyone out
And that’s never been what this house is about
Act what you say,
Say what you act,
Say to our face
What you say to our backs.
We will still party,
Despite your attacks.
If the cap fits wear it.
We know how you are.
Putting guards on our the windows shuts everyone out.
That’s never been what this house is about
Penelope Pritchard
Penelope Prichard planned a grand party
she pondered upon who best to invite
‘only the best of the gentry delight me’
she thought to herself as she pottered about
and there must be pies of impressive proportions
plumped up with partridge, pheasants and phish
(spelled p-h- plus ish)
(Penelope never learned to spell anything totally right!)
she wanted to make an impact in her own social class,
and make it quite fast,
whilst denying the fact she was lonely
plenty of party food must be procured
there must be beer, and wine,
champagne and cider
something to suit every visitors taste
apples and artichokes, custards and cakes
delicious delicacies
edibable sculptures of jelly and ice
fancies and folderols,
grapes and …. oh,
to avoid a whole alphabet,
or a preponderance of p’s,
lets just say, everything nice !
so she collected her purse
and wore her best hat
bustled about
said farewell to her cat
and without further ado
trotted off to the shops
on her way she passed Peter
who lived by the docks
i have to admit
he wasn’t well dressed
his hair was a mess
he played a good flute
but to own a good suit
was beyond his reach
to tell you quite frankly
he resembled a person
who sleeps in a ditch
suffice it to say
Peter, quite simply,
had never been rich
he had a liking for Penny
he thought she might be
the sort of woman
he hoped she might be
the sort of woman
he probably needed,
one he could love,
but their eyes never met
he knew she was older
there was nothing from her
he expected to get
but he liked her walk
he liked her hair
he just wanted to know her
to meet her and talk
to get to know how she thought
she wasn’t playing hard to get
to her he didn’t exist at all
he was zero, nada, nothing, nought
he wasn’t a man who could pass her inspection
he wasn’t the type to invite to her house
she’d think his manners were sure to be bad
she never one glanced in his direction
this made Peter feel sad
her disregard made him feel small
he thought he had nothing to offer
nothing she’d want, nothing at all
but on her way back from the shops
Penelope suffered a terrible fall
she tripped on the curb
her shopping was scattered
she couldn’t get up
everyone passing by just ignored her
one of two stared but walked straight by
peoples reaction left her shattered
she couldn’t believe that nobody cared
but Peter rushed forward
and held out his hand
pulled her up
helped her to stand
gathered her shopping
spoke to her kindly
brushed her down
she looked in his eyes
he was smiling at her
he had held her hand
she couldn’t remember
the last time
she’d been touched
she found her self
not wanting to leave very much
she looked at him then
she didn’t look at his clothes
or his hair,
or his youth
she suddenly found
she didn’t care
he carried her shopping
back to her house
she canceled the party
she made him a meal
and now Miss Penelope
Miss Quiet as a Mouse
sings in the kitchen
and dances with him
and she’s learned how to feel
and less how to grieve
and Peters her lover
and he’s not going to leave
Autumn
I sit in the window alone
above the darkened garden
and the lamplit streets
that lead to the far away hills.
The lamp behind me
casts my own shadow down
onto the empty lawn.
A passing stranger looks up,
hurries on and is gone.
A father carries his daughter home.
She droops on his shoulder, asleep.
The only sound is the traffic
and a party and laughter,
distant, along the street.
The moon is hidden by billowing cloud.
The stars up above are unseen.
Looking down to the gloom of the garden
I take comfort
in only the smallest things –
a frail light that shines on apple tree leaves
and the sweet, gentle autumn air.
after the party
after the party
later on
the lovely part was
when there were only six of us left
we had to sleep in one room
by the fire we sat and talked until dawn
and when we woke again at mid day
these strangers were all close friends
we never met again
The Dreaming Path 