Standing in the alley that night, I witnessed a ******.

She wore a pink polka-dot skirt that barely covered her supple, smooth thighs. On top, she wore a brown turtleneck sweater, and on her feet, Air Jordan 4 retro trainers in yellow.

I was confused. Who was her stylist?

I had to ask.
"Hey, lady, what’s up with your outfit?"

She was a pretty filly, to be fair, with soft blonde hair and loud, vibrant blue eyes that suggested mischief and intrigue. Her voluptuous frame was being drastically let down by the clothes she was wearing.

"I love all these items I wear, sir," she retorted, smiling and raising an eyebrow. "Each one represents a time in my life when I was happy and things were exciting and fun."

Puzzled, I pressed for more. "But nothing matches."

She let out a howl of excited laughter.
"Who are you, the fashion police? Some people carry their problems. I carry my achievements."

And off she went, swaying her ample hips as she slinked out of the alley.

Did she really ****** that outfit, or had she had the right outfit on all along?

I went home and attempted to pick out memories that brought me happiness.

Standing naked as I was born, I realized a trip to the shopping mall was in order.

'Twas dark in the woods, and all was still.
A faint noise in the distance
pricked Agent Shepherd's ears.
Crouching, his head in his hands,
hidden behind a giant oak tree,
Shepherd knew he must put aside any fears
and proceed with his mission.

He had been sent to seek out and rescue
a fellow poet from the shadows of hell.
Ill-prepared and on the verge of madness,
Shepherd rose to his feet.

"I must protect... I must protect,"
muttered the reluctant hero as he made his way
blindly through the blackness.

Approaching closer, the noise became clear:
gentle sobbing.

Branches bowed down, blocking Agent Shepherd's path.
He cleared the way, continuing doggedly to
reach the cries.

And there she was.

Sat upright, huddled,
hands clutching her arms
tightly around her knees,
weeping.

"Mrs. Willow?"

The distressed poet's head lifted.

"Who's there?"

Agent Shepherd slowly knelt down
and softly spoke:
"Hey there, Mrs. Willow."

"Richard?"

"Yes, it is I. Everything will be okay, I promise.
Hold my hand and let me take you home."

She nodded her head and clasped his outstretched
hand.

---

Sunbeams shone radiantly through the bedroom curtains.
As the weary poet awoke,
a feeling of wonderment and fresh energy
surged within her.
Laughing gently,
a small, then larger, smile filled her face.

---

"Agent Shepherd, you have completed your mission. Well done."

"Thank you, sir. It was a pleasure."

"We at the Poetic Justice Bureau want you to know that the mission was not only for Mrs. Willow.
It was also for you.
Do you feel a sense of self-worth now?"

"I do, sir."

"Good. Now, rest up, because soon enough, your services will be
called upon again."

"Yes, sir, and thank you, sir."

Shaking, hesitating, I held out a hand.

"Would you allow me the honour of accompanying you on a country walk?"

Jessica lived a few houses down the street from my home. She had moved there with her mum and dad, maybe four years prior. We had never spoken before.

She was a diminutive figure with a sad but pretty, freckled face. Her long red hair was pulled back tight into a ponytail, which accentuated her striking features. And yet, she seemed to have no friends and rarely, if ever, held her head aloft to say hello in passing.

I, too, was an outsider - a timid, shy boy, with no inclination to fall in line and become just another kid from the estate.

Pausing mid-stride, her head bowed above the cracked, damaged paving stones, her arm motioned towards mine. My heart was racing - a mixture of fear and excitement.

"I'd like that very much," she softly whispered.

We joined hands and made our way to the entrance of a small, unmade road that led to green fields and woodland beyond.

"My name is Richard, and..."

Jessica cut in.

"I know who you are, Richard. I was hoping one day to do this."

Smiling, we cast bashful glances.

Soon enough, this unlikely pair were chatting and laughing, like we had always been pals. Jessica even initiated a half-skip of a walk, swinging our arms back and forth.

We picked buttercups that day, made daisy chains, placing them around each other's wrists. Wildlife was out in full force: squirrels, sheep with their young, birds singing sweet, tuneful songs...

All at once, the two children, so ill at ease with the world for so long, were set free.

"Hey, Richard!" my new companion shouted. "Let's pretend we're rabbits!"

I duly obliged.

Falling to our knees, smiling and giggling, we became rabbits indeed - bouncing about, pretending to dig for carrots, running from an angry farmer with his gun.

Until it was time for us to return to our homes for tea.

"Bye-bye, Jessica. I've had ever so much fun. Thank you for a wonderful afternoon."

Dropping her sweet face to one side, smiling broadly, she leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss on my cheek.

I blushed.

After walking home and saying our goodbyes, the evening drew in. Sweet dreams of a special day filled the sleep-time hours.

I awoke to hear my parents in deep discussion. From what I could make out, there had been a fire on the estate during the night. A family had perished.

I made my way downstairs.

"Richard," Father looked anxious. "It was Jessica's house. You knew her, right?"

I couldn't speak.

I knew her.

We picked buttercups.

Jackie was a piglet
sitting in a tree
along came a spider
whose name was Zebedee
Bobby was a parrot
who often ate raw fish
Tarquin was a badger
who really took the ****
Bertie was a rabbit
who couldn't have a dump
Eric was a porcupine
who had the ******* ****
all the funny animals
laughed and drank and sung
'til ****** Sid the problem kid
shot them with a gun

Teardrops trickled in all directions
across and down my red flushed face
my heart pounded to a rhythm I had never known
uncontrollable mood swings followed

this was my first love, saying goodbye
I often recall and often regret
yet, what could I of possibly done different?
my destiny, my personality, were formed long before she came

many years later, I was given a label;

tut-tut, oh well, never mind
learn to live with it
you can never change

I travel into the echoes of my long distant past
I find life was not as I remembered
insanity was my upbringing
schemas in place long before I knew they were there

the culprits have now both left this world
I have no explanation, admission or apology
just a bucket of square pegs
with round holes to fill

so, to my first love, I say this;

you did well to walk away from me
I would have only brought you pain


yet, the teardrops still fall

If I could be anything I chose to be
I'd choose to be a whisper

"Good evening, Mrs Jones."

"Oh, hello there officer, what on earth do the police want with me?"

"It's not you, it's your son, David."

"Why, David is a good boy, he is out now taking our puppy for a walk."

"Your poodle, yes?"

"That's right, Harry his name is."

"David has been reported as having relations with Harry behind the post office."

"Relations?"

"According to three witnesses he was seen bumming poor Harry to death."

"To death?"

"Yes, the body has been taken to the police dog pound."

"Oh ok, but you do realise David identifies as a gay poodle?"

"Mrs Jones, I am so sorry. If we had known that we wouldn't of troubled you."

"That's the problem with you lot; you're a bunch of Terfs."

"Tell David not to worry and be assured the witnesses shall be reprimanded and dealt with appropiately."

"Good day to you officer."

"Thank you for your time Mrs Jones and please accept the force's full apology in this matter."

Beaten with a stick
thrashed by a belt
man weeps for the child
over the hand that he was dealt

walking for long hours
church clock as his guide
avoiding human beings
environmental genocide

lost inside a moment
never-ending pause
beasts visited in dreams
ripping with their claws

child petrified
devoid of understanding
paranoia in full bloom
irrational thoughts expanding

man weeps for the child
who took it on the chin
for the cards that he was dealt
cemented no chance of a win

White lilies
closed casket
poor fellow
blew his gasket

I was the youngest of seven children with a docile, simple mother with no emotion who was obedient to my violent and sadistic father.

Suffice to say I was subjected to continual abuse.

I could not pronounce words which led to years of speech therapy.

The therapist seemed to get great delight in every meeting, forcing me to say " Six sizzling sausages frying in a pan" , which resulted in saliva running down my chin and extreme embarrassment.

She always laughed at this.

At age ten, I found myself confused and petrified as she rummaged inside my underwear with her eager hand.

I never went back.

I never told anyone.

I buried myself in books and wrote poetry.

Years later I collated some poems together and sent them to the British Poetry Society ( probably not the correct name).

To my delight I received a hand written letter from their president, giving advice and encouragement.

His name was Spike.

Spike Milligan.

Thank you sir.

All my life, I have had a problem with maintaining eye contact.

They say the eyes are the mirror of the soul.

The only times I don't have this problem are when I'm enraged with someone.

It was so bad when I was a child that I couldn’t even watch the news on TV because I thought the newsreader was looking at me.

Deep shame was the cause.

Thanks, Dad.

She led me to the waterfront
I cast a skimming stone
three bounces secured true love that day
seeds of future lives were sown

we married in a small town church
two rings blessed with a kiss
a baby was born the following spring
three bounces gave us bliss

alas, our bairn was taken after three short years
from this it became hard to recover
so we walked back to the waterfront
three bounces, this time, cast by my lover

in the years that passed, five children were raised
each one filled with joy and laughter
the first born was always spoke of and rejoiced
as much as the ones that came after

we often led them to the waterfront
they cast skimming stones, perfecting the art
my love and I smiled with pride
three bounces was just the start

"Hello Edward.How's tricks?"


"Can't complain Mike.
I see your boy's been courting young Emily,
good for him."


"Yes, he makes me very proud.
Only last night I caught him washing his trunk
in the kitchen sink whilst singing
love songs about her".


"Aw, how sweet.
Her old man's a bit of a ****, though.
I heard he was knocking off a cow from the circus.
Filthy ******* can't keep it in his pants."


"Yes, Billy is a disgrace to all bulls.
Mind you,
with a four foot **** swinging about,
I guess you've  got to do something with it."


"Haha, yea, I guess so.
His missus is so sweet, though, it's not right."


"Barbara's a lovely cow, my childhood sweetheart she was."


"No ****? I didn't know that, Mike.
Ever thought about dropping her a length?"


"Edward, I'm a respectable member of the herd.
Besides, I love my wife.
No, I get satisfaction in life just knowing I have a great family
and a herd of true friends.
I don't need any distractions to ruin it all."


"Yea. I guess, you're right. I might have a bash though,
I ain't filled my boots in weeks."


"Just treat her kind."


"Yea no worries. Laters Mike."


"Yes, bye Edward."

'Hello Ted, me 'ol mucker'

'Oh...yea…alright Bruce'

'What's up with you?'

'I caught Sophie last night,
you know...'

'What?'

'She's having it away with Guy the Gorilla'

'Jesus,
he must have split her in two.
Saying that,
she does have a wizard's sleeve'

'You what?
what the **** did you just say?'

'C'mon Ted,
don't play innocent.
She's a bit of a goer is Sophie,
a right old ****'

'I don't believe this.
Have you been knocking her off as well?'

'Yea,
a couple of times,
just casual like.
What can I say?
She wiggled her **** in my face
and let one go.
How could I refuse?'

'Ok,
well yea she does have a sweet aroma
but still,
you're meant to be my mate,
what a ***** you are, Bruce'

'Calm down Ted,
look,
I'll set you up with a
chimp *****, I know'

'Really?
What's she like?'

'Tight as a keyhole and up for anything.
Only last week we played
Hide The Banana'

'Sounds **** as hell, Bruce,
yea mate alright,
I'll give her a go'

'Attaboy,
you know it makes sense'

'Cheers Bruce,
Sophie can go **** herself'

'Or any other ape,
eh, Ted!?
Hahaha'

'You ******'

You alright Bert?

Yea, not too bad,
how's it hanging, Max?

Well I had a rough night,
what with my owners at it like rabbits 'til morning
and the cat ******* in my basket

****,
what a ******

innit,
it's OK though
cos I dropped a **** in her litter tray
'try covering that log up you filthy *****'

nice one,
'ere I had a massive dump myself earlier,
the old girl I live with was well annoyed with me,
of course, I looked at her all remorseful like
and did the head tilt thing

did she fall for it, Bert?

Yea,
***** cow,
she even gave me a treat,
humans eh?
Gullible *****

you got that right Bert

Flesh filled visions
brains burnt out
pariah desire disease
punctured heart
shifted gaze
inconsolable disbelief

Watch me as I'm dreaming,
shortened breath and fear.
Inside my head, I'm screaming,
since she left me lying here.

I'm trying to recover,
to become a man once more.
Poor, broken-hearted lover,
feeling rotten to the core.

Praying to the heavens
for redemption of my soul.
I'm at sixes and sevens,
as I fall into a hole.

Darkness is my traitor,
yet I treat it as a friend.
Goodbye and see you later,
I think I'm going round the bend.

Have I ever?
would I ever?
depends of course
upon the weather
dark clouds swirl above

it's normally raining
somewhat draining
popping veins
increase with straining
there is no relief in sight

sun a rising?
moon a shining?
each meal is spent
in solitude whining
hunger never wanes

write a rhyme?
commit a crime?
no need for greed
I have served my time
yet the locks still turn

in like Flynn
the mighty Quinn
some rejoice
the colours of spring
I just.. fall

are you still reading?
my toes are kneading
***** defunct
I am done with breeding
oh, what a game

in need of change
to rearrange
every thought is irrational
every thought is strange
press delete then pause

they fooled me, psych
these hills I hike
place my head
upon a spike
the soul will never fade away

automatic writing
thoughts reciting
chattering teeth
pressure biting
blood trickles from my eyes

running low on gas
oh well, alas
invitation to hell?
I'll take a pass
self medication awaits

Between the sheets
you will see the real me
a tender, affectionate soul
no crazed delusions, no confusions
no re-repeated role
for I am but a simple man
troubled from my birth
take a chance and you will see
the value of my worth