Just who the hell

Do you think you are?

In your house that is so

Twee

Just who the hell

Do you think you are?


YOU

are

NO

more different than

ME


Just because

You have a car

Just because

Your old man works

YOU

think that these entitle

YOU

To all those extra perks!

WELL

******* ALL

**** YOUR WAYS

THE TIME HAS COME TO RE-APPRAISE

~


I am angry you were nasty
I am angry you were cruel

Surprised

YOU

didn’t march us

to the

***** Ducking Stool


And what exactly was the crime?

In the safety of your home?

Were there far too many children?

With a natural freedom born to roam?


Did not one of you ever stop to think?

What went on behind

Closed doors?

Or were

YOU

Indignantly repulsed?

Fervently abhorred?


Well … Let me tell you for nothing

My father was a ****

Yet

YOU

hid

behind your curtains

Surely

WE

were

WORTH A PUNT?


I even fulfilled your small town prophecy

When I learnt to rob and steal

It was never about the money

It was only ever about the thrill


Seven little vagabonds

Seven little ***** of sin


“Be careful where you step my sweet”

“For, they do not hold our Lord within”


Mr Roberts …

“How dare you walk these streets?

Glowing with civic pride

Did you not know your

wife’s back home with her pumpkin leg’s spread open wide!

Oh…. Yes … your brother was often a frequent guest

While you brown nosed

on your

Monetary quest”


Mrs Philips …

“Hubby … taking the boys to camp again?

He sure likes to drill them hard

Does he make you take it up the ****?

Does he leave

YOU

His

CALLING CARD?


I could go on … with tales of pain
I could go on … with tales of woe

But

That is

NOT

MY PURPOSE

For it was so very long ago  


I just want to make you realise the pain left in those children’s hearts

They really were so much more
Than
the
Sum of all their parts

So next time you cast aspersions
With
your
Judgemental eyes

Remember

Each time the knife’s stuck in

**A

Little piece of that child dies …

As I sit here in my

Ivory Tower

Holding the cards but none of the power

It dawns on me; why am I here?

Logic and reason just doesn’t seem clear


Cars, Holidays and Money do not mean a dot

Yet there’s envy in your eyes

You want what I’ve got

Do think that my kingdom is happy and gay?

Sun always shines

A life so divine

Well… you know the old saying…you know what they say

If you think it’s so great…walk in my shoes for a day


Tedious boredom
Fruit full fit to burst
Never a pleasure
Always a curse


So next time you crave my life

Dear Friend

Close your eyes tightly…pretend

And remember as you sit in my Ivory Tower

You’re holding the cards but none of the power.

Husband

raises eyes

and

beholds

Wife

Showcased on the marital bed like some bizarre opus of abstract art

Dali would have been so proud!

Juxtaposition
of
Wife
against white satin sheets is breath taking

Stark

Exciting

Exhilarating

Stark

Delectable mountains of previously guarded white flesh available now in abundance

Curve of spine
Swell of *******
Secret garden

Husband is breathless

Patent Red Stilettos
Ruby Red Lipstick

Conspire

Entice and lure him into new and dangerous forms

Light from partially closed curtains only elevate already awakening senses
Draw base instincts to the fore
Primeval
Lust
Depravity

Husband stands transfixed

Spellbound

Death lines
Professionally accurate
Precise
Plethora of perfect pinpricks adorne a graceful neck
Precise
Criss-cross of intricate irresistible artistry
Precise

Resembles an oracle in obscurity of thought

She is simply beautiful …

They say it scars you for life!

They say it consumes your soul!

They say you never get over it!

They say a lot of things …

Am I so

different?

Or maybe?

I’m

just

Indifferent!

Who knows?

I don’t know

I really don’t know

I often peek inside the rusty old bucket of dead babies that I keep in the loft

And?

I feel nothing

Not a **** thing

Feeble

Formed

Foetuses

Swirling around and around and around

and around and around

and around

Why is it that I have no pain?

Why do I not crave my dead babies?

I couldn’t even tell you when they fell out

When they made a run for it

When they thought “**** this …. I’m out of this *****”

Does that make me a bad person?

Would it be more acceptable if I was distraught and inconsolable?

Then you could all pat me on the back and collect my tears

Well ….

Heres the news …

“There’s NO ******* tears here, baby!”

So you all can take your sanctimonious ******* and shove it straight up your sympathetic compassionate arses

In fact

I’ll even lay a wager that if this was

YOU

YOU

would run

through

Imaginary birthdays

Imaginary names

Conceptions

Etc

"Sshhhh ….. Don’t mention babies in front of her"

She is so fragile

Full of so much love

A tiny delicate little flower

Full of so much love

MILK IT *****

COS TONIGHT I’LL BE HOWLING AT THE MOON SURROUNDED BY DANCING DEAD BABIES

John Patrick Robbins
Needs to come home
But he is
Lost in the wilderness

Alone he doth roam

Come join with me
Come take my hand
We need him back
Let’s make a stand

Eliot …. Please I beg of you
Do not bade this fool adieu
He makes us laugh
He makes us cry

Set out your rules
He will comply

Just bring him home
Where he belongs
United we can
Sing his songs

Songs of love
Songs of woe
Songs of joy
Songs of
Hello

This man is such a splendid chap
Lost forever
Quick … Fetch the map
I’ll set out now
Hunt him down
Return to us

OUR   BELOVED   CLOWN

As I sit here in my kitchen
I watch my lover work

(Trying to fix the boiler!)

It is

Possible/Probable

That
He will very shortly
Go
Totally
Berserk!

Hoses
Drills  
Cables
Adorn the kitchen floor
But …
I have mischief on my mind
That will soon
Come to the fore

I sassy over slowly
Ask is he wants some tea?
We often play this silly game
Pretending …
That he has never before met

ME!

He is just a workman
He is purely trade
I am just a housewife
Desperate to get laid

I set his tea beside him
Run my fingers through his hair
Caress his manly muscles
I really do not care!
I do not care for etiquette
I do not care for rules
I only care to **** him
Here
Amongst his ***** tools
I know the game is on
When
Resolve walk out the door
I now possess the power
To drink from his liquid store
He is but a willing victim
So I start to make a show
Soon
It’s hell for leather
My gifts on him
I do bestow

I love this man with all my heart
I loved this man right from the start
My love for him is off the chart
I love my man
My  
Work of Art

When the job is over
When the tools are all packed up
When the job is over
He stops
Drinking from the cup

That’s the time he invoices
A bill needs to be rendered
I always pay up willingly
For my soul has long surrendered

I thank my ***** workman
This man
That sets my heart ablaze
Then
My ***** workman thanks me
For my wanton ways

I escort him of the premises
My love for him adorning
He smiles at me lovingly

That’s why

I’m easy

I’m easy like Sunday morning

... ~ ...