It is always around midnight when
I sit and contemplate my days
And what better way to say it
Than a poem by Robert Graves:

About midnight my heart began
         To trip again and knock.
The tattered ghost of a tall man
Looked fierce at me as in he ran,
          But fiercer at the clock.

It was, he swore, a long, long while
          Until he'd had the luck
To die and make his domicile
On some ungeographic isle
          Where no hour ever struck.

'But now, you worst of clocks', said he
           'Delayer of all love,
In vengeance I've recrossed the sea
To **** at your machinery
            And give your hands a shove.'

So impotently he groped and peered
           That his whole body shook!
I could not laugh at him; I feared
This was no ghost but my own weird,
           And closer dared not look.

A knowledge and a mastery
              kept inside
is not wise and why keep those
     S    E   C   R    E   T   S
            that easily
S
     L
           I
               D
                     E
out, up, down, forward, back
around, a sight, a sound
                     to
                      D
             I                   E
                   L     G
not guide!

To acknowledge the catastrophe
                not hide
those cries and why weep for a
    B  L  E  A  K  N  E  S  S
             that cunningly
R                                    S
          I     ­              E
                    D
in, down, behind, in front
a trot, a canter, a gallop
                     to
***                           IDE
and hide?

No longer in black
or funeral colours
of grief but
today it was
shades of blue
dresses in other
shapes
with skirts
that could lead me
into a twirl
and make me ditch
denim trousers
because I'm still
a girl!

Do we
Live in a world that we didn't even choose
Utopia, Dysphoria, War Zone?
Or stay
Safe in a place that is nestled within a womb
Placenta, Myopia, Safe Home?
Or should we
Stay in a county with possesions we own
Dictator, Fabricator, Planes drone?
Can't speak
A language that was created by us unknown
Metaphorical, Native, Foul tongue?
Is there
A Universe that we by chance could exist
Uninvited, Alien, Pesty Guest?
Or would
A world of full of boundaries let me find
A Nation, Peace, Permanent home?