i'll gain my birth through pen'n ink
perhaps with paper as midwife
my birth may raise a triffick stink
i'll gain my birth through pen'n ink,

i will i will i'm sure...i think,
some where i've been write to life
i'll gain my birth through pen'n ink
with paper perhaps as midwife.

                                  2

I see a dot above my eye
feel crosses cross my little tees
will he pen me now with slim thighs
i see a dot above my eye,

a buxom lass he's penned he sighs
he writes '' skirt pulled above her knees''
i see a dot above my eye
feel crosses cross my little tees.

                                  3

He never minds his p's'n q's
just dots my eye crosses his tees
and gazes on these words he drew
he never minds his p's'n q's,

he'll never mind his p's'n q's
he writes his words now with great glee
perhaps my wish for life i'll rue
he blots my eyes to stroke his tees.

i didn't exist for ages, you know
then, all of a sudden, this brief glow.

I've insane rage inside it kills
O comfort me with Mother love
its wills will me to do self ills
i've insane rage inside it kills,

O Mother mine please hold me still
gently gentle me free from fear
i've insane rage inside it kills
O comfort me my Mother dear.

                             2

This rage will will me underground
dear gentle me with Mother love
down on Earth i am so hell bound
this rage will will me underground,

i might reach peace, deep underground
i'm teetering just one shove,
this rage will will me underground
dear gentle me with mother love.

                              3

I called you came, you comfort me
though rage still wills me underground
you gentled me to let it be
i called you came you comfort me,

those future years i feared, you see
i wasn't shoved i just jumped down
you called i came you comfort me
together now, deep underground.

This thing, that i am doing now
showing a universal need,
a need to communicate, somehow
this thing, that i am doing now,

neanderthalers did it, wow!
perhaps down time they've sown the seeds
for these things we are doing now
it shows a universal need.

I guess most inventions come from the child mind
the bow'n arrow, from the fire-stick?
fueling progress of the human kind,

a map, for sure, showing where dinner hides,
pat-a-cake, pat- Say' I made me a brick!''
I guess most inventions come from the child mind,

hey, Maw'n Paw, let's buil a cave, outside
the Catalhoyuk way (neolithic)
to fuel progress of the human kind,

James Watt and others, anyone can find
had their ideas young when the mind's quick
most inventions come from the childlike mind,

I guess the adults then got on the grind
after the child has given it a lick
this fuels progress of the human kind,

maybe the kids grew something on which they dined
perhaps hand-rearing a lamb or a chick
most inventions come from the childlike mind
not so very far from the poet's mind.

You bought me cheaply at the store
you own me now i'm your copyright
insert your  words then insert more
i'm a notebook in which you'll write,

You took me home you broke me wide
you flutter my leaves now you break me more
to lie flat on your desk so pens will glide
across my pages it's what i am for.

will you rule you lines with a heavy hand
this ****** page lies waiting for your words
to run your pen over at your command
your forceful words, will they be heard?

It isn't the hard work of which I hate
to pluck meaningful phrases from thin air
it's Villanelles are hard to fabricate,

I can roll my sleeves, to tackle work, mate
and tackle with will but even with care
it isn't the hard work of which I hate,

or the sad fact that self will self berate
or that one can't insert with some kind of flair
it's villanelles are hard to fabricate,

but I'll battle on, correct or delate
you've heard of the phrase lol of  ''she who dares''
it isn't the hard work of which I hate,

I guess it's not part of the human estate
or of a struggling with human affairs
it's villanelles are hard to fabricate,

but, I shall end now, it is getting late
and I'm getting headaches from this page glare
it isn't the hard work, of which, I hate
but villanelles, are hard, to fabricate!