Winner

WINNER

She swam determinedly
In the now
Upstream
Against the current
She swam determinedly

Gritted her teeth
She heard the cheering from the banks

She swam determinedly
In the now
Upstream
Against the current
She swam determinedly

Gritted her teeth
Swam on

The P’d-off Princess

THE P’D-OFF PRINCESS

I am the object of their love
Oh yes, they “love” me

With a price they dictate
And in which I had no say

So fuck ‘em all
Because real love is tough

So here comes tough love
Fuck ‘em all

Thought I Found Someone

THOUGHT I FOUND SOMEONE

Robin and Peter went walking
Fearlessly through the woods
Clutching their scripts like addicts
Seeking one who’d deliver the goods

At home among the forest trees
Creatures of the heath
He was looking to beat the Sheriff
She was looking to beat the teeth

They met one day in an autumn glade
Dead leaves were all around
They looked at each other warily
But neither made a sound

She came armed with caution
He came armed with hope
He had a quiver of arrows and bow
She had a length of rope

And as Peter became more cautious
So Robin’s hope increased
He was looking to court a lady
She was looking to capture a beast

Did he see the one he’d been seeking
As she lured him toward the tree?
I suppose, as has often been noted before
You see what you want to see

As he thought he had her by the heart
She caught him by the tail
And so the tale was ended
And all to no avail

He was looking to meet Maid Marion
She was looking to meet a wolf
——————————————————————

References are acknowledged to the popular folk figure Robin Hood, Sergei Prokofiev’s “Peter and the Wolf” and the Transactional Analysis concept “Life script”.

All Life Is Sacred

I don’t think the sacredness of life (or anyway what that set of sounds means to me) is something I would even bother debating …

Self evident!

But then me, I’m moved to tears every time by Ani DiFranco singing “The Atom” on the official bootleg in Rome, so perhaps I’m just a soft touch?

However this viewpoint does not provide me with an answer to “is abortion a good or bad/acceptable or ‘sinful’ thing”. Nor do I expect it to. For sure if you try and get the experience of “sacredness” – which is essentially an emotional one – to stand duty in the realm of strict logic and deduction, and start providing you with clearcut answers to moral, ethical and behavioural questions it will lead you into the swamp of absurdity in short order. Q.E.D.

On the other hand, I personally find bearing a strong sense of the sacred with me whenever I can provides just the kind of illumination and guidance that helps me negotiate the swamp without losing my way. (Well not too often anyway. )

Those Kinds Of Women

…..
…..
…..
THOSE KINDS OF WOMEN

I was always
kind of glad
in a way.

For the kind of men
who were attracted to women
who were attracted to men
who were attracted to women
who looked like that
weren’t looking for -
couldn’t even see -
what we could see.

And
those men
and those women
could go play somewhere else.

Leaving
all the more space
For me
And you
To find one another.

And we did.

And I am so so glad
that we did.

A Well Known Story

A WELL KNOWN STORY

It is a well known story,
And I’m sure you’ve heard it said,
That of all the animal kingdom
The Lion is the head.

He sits assured upon his throne
And knows he can’t be moved,
But still the King Of The Jungle
Must sometimes have it proved.

So he went to see the Tiger,
Who was sitting having tea
“Who’s the King Of The Jungle?”
The Tiger said, “Why, me.”

This made the Monarch angry
And made the Tiger regret it;
As he landed in a pile of plates
The Lion roared, “Don’t forget it!”

He next sought out the Zebra,
A milder sort of beast.
“And do you mind telling me, peasant … ?”
“Oh no, sir, not in the least.”

But once the question was finished
The Zebra changed his song,
Saying “I’m the King of the Jungle,
And if you think different you’re wrong.”

The Lion flew into a rage
And beat him with a broom
And tore the stripes from off his back
And stormed out of the room.

He rudely hailed the Elephant.
The placid beast never stirred.
“WHO IS THE KING OF THE JUNGLE???”
She answered not a word,

Just picked the Lion up in her trunk
And gave him such a shake,
Then wrapped him round some nearby trees
And threw him in the lake.

The Lion lay there an instant,
Till he knew who he was again,
Then stepped from the water gracefully
And proudly shook his mane.

Calmly he approached the Elephant
With all the style of a dancer
And said, “Well, there’s no need to get annoyed
Just because you don’t know the answer.”
——————————————————————

The ego has access to a seemingly bottomless font of self-deception. At the macro level this ego expresses itself as exceptionalism. (If you’re unfamiliar with the concept, you might want to look it up on Dictionary.com )

Samuel Johnson said, “Patriotism is the last refuge of a scoundrel.” And before you blow a gasket, do have an open minded and open hearted look at the way the poor word has been (and *is*) being (mis)used.

Unnatural

UNNATURAL

I spotted her lurking in the shadows,
doing her best, sneakily, to blend in.
Not an adder, a grass snake; not a threat.
Like hell! A snake in the grass – dangerous

- slithering in close when your guard is down.
Uninvited, unwanted, not by me.
Faceless, limbless, beady eyes, pointed fangs.
“Abnormal, unnatural,” I murmured.

Too much like something met in a nightmare.
Temptation? An exquisite punishment?
I remembered Eden. “Can’t be trusted.
Eden, a plot, a trick. Caught! Shamed! Cast out!”

I looked again. I shuddered in disgust.
I felt the taste of vomit in my throat,
picked up a stick and began to beat it.
Started snarling in time as each blow fell.

“Abnormal!” (WHACK!) “Unnatural!” (WHACK!)
“Snake!” (WHACK!) “Viper!” (WHACK!)
“Bitch!” (WHACK!) “Whore!” (WHACK)
“Slut!” (WHACK!) “Tramp!” (WHACK!)

It wasn’t much now, just an ugly smear.
I realised I was quite out of breath.
“But not as out of breath as you,” I sneered.
Hit it once more for luck, smirked and walked on.

I realised I must have drifted off.
Shook my head. “Daydream. Too many whiskies.”
I looked around the room. She was still there.
“Nice tits. I wonder whether she’d like a drink.”

——————————————————————

The secret gender war.