What's the scariest book you ever read? ... Some Stephen King book like Salem's Lot or The Shining? For me it's Kate Millett's ****** Politics ... Oh, man ... Now THAT will scare you to death if you're female.

I discovered a man, overheard at my church, who actually believes his *** is a sign of power and of superiority. WHY am I so startled? Some childish trust not yet scrubbed off?" Or worse yet, some belief, not yet strangled, in a better world? See, stupid me, I thought this bill had been paid, by sufferance, by real people like Elizabeth Stanton, Carrie Catt and Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. ... by entire generations who ran through those tangled woods emerging cut and bruised ... if at all.

What is it like for HIM? I see him eyeing us, his little inferiors who bleed with the moon, with secret, catlike distaste ... regarding female opinions as slightly impure ... then, with calm, Godlike grace, granting females the forms of servant to assume.

Can I, can we, be forced to accept this inheritance? I don't know ... All I know is that this prejudice, so strangely without substance, strikes me like a dueler's lucky ******, robbing me of attendant rights and wit ... springing a tender trap of doubt in the future and abandoning me to stammering.

Memories of an old friend's drum;
rejoice as your paths intertwine
and leave an emerald mark,
like a ferry towards safer shores
to guide you between kin's ways,
planting the roots of clarity
where you'll grow with the rhythm
of a ready wan light.

I will pretend this day doesn't exist
Just like the person, it demands remembrance
But only in the locked ivory pages of my diary

The pain I have yet to unpack all come rushing back
The memories of you and the present lack
I cannot say you were an inspiration
I cannot say you taught me how to be a good man

I can say that behind my willowed face of pain
That I will always be apart of you but not in vain
I will take the gifts bestowed and continue to grow
Without you and let karma give you the seeds you sowed
All poisonous like the tainted water I had to grow in
Your toxicity within me so potent

Invaded my home unwillingly like a rodent
We supposed to be forever and always but your actions rendered you an opponent
I was hand-fed rage by your hard hands and I failed to notice.

When did we start to hide
The feelings we experienced inside
When did we learn to fear
The people we kept near
When did our dreams start to change
And our thoughts rearrange
When was the final day
Our innocence went away

His slippers still in the corner,
           I wear them sometimes
scuffing along.

I'll fill these empty shoes  
                              one day,
           making you proud.

For my situation in life
I don’t blame my parents
or anything like that,
They may well have been crap
And ****** me up
(Just Like Larkin said)
But blaming others won’t change anything,
It is as it is
And I try and take ownership
Rather than mitigate and delegate
Hate.

Over the years
I’ve met many people who look back in anger,
Blame all the faults they have,
All the problems they’ve encountered,
On their parents
Or others,
How they were raised as kids
Else treated at school by a teacher.
And, you know,
Maybe it’s true
And maybe it’s not,
But I try hard
Not to linger,
To doff
And point an accusatory finger.

Standing naked and alone
Facing with all your faults,
Taking ownership is difficult
And accountability *****,
But when the blade of justice swings
It’s important - even for such a schmuck as me -
To face the consequences,
Not to duck!

It stayed with her forever,
The faded **** in her skin.
A permanent reminder
Of courageous origin.

Welsh suburbia,
The week’s paper nestled at doorsteps
And cars lining driveways.
The sloped street dared
Every child to climb
Onto their bike and conquer.

She avoided it when shaving
As though an accidental cut
Would pollute
Childhood's lustre.

No stabilisers. Wicked.
The street’s children envied her.
A goddess of danger.
They all lined up on the day,
To see their idol
Dominate the asphalt *****.

Imagination made it prickle
In board meetings and cafes.
Time marched on
And the sensation with it.

Parents peered
Out their front doors.
Grandad stood vigilant
Fighting a smile.
The silence before calamity…
…and the forward push.

The scar sat beneath her shin,
Short from a distance but
Taller the closer
You came.

Whoosh. Down she went
Gulping the air and
Smiling like a belle.
Children blurred as she passed,
Everything became a haze
And she hollered.

It prickled
At Grandad’s funeral last year.
That made her fight a smile,
And she eventually succumbed.

Euphoria blinded her
To the oncoming curb.
The bike lurched, and
Heaved her off.
Pain echoed through naïve bones
Radiating beneath her shin.

Her husband asked about it.
'I fell off my bike as a girl.'
Her children asked about it.
'I fought a dragon.'

Grandad appeared instantly,
Deft hands wrapping
Gauze around a cut.
With an affectionate ruffle,
He pulled her up onto his shoulder
And carried her back.
When she cried in pain,
He pulled her closer.

Going through these growing pains
Where nothing quite feels the same
Lost some friends along the way
But moving onto another day

I’m going through these growing pains
In order to bloom first it needs to rain
Learned some lessons along the way
And left the old me at bay

Going through these growing pains
Nothing left to lose only to gain
Where I am now is where I need to be today
And everything is going to be okay