MENOPAUSAL

What on earth is happening here?
I've always lived a life beyond fear,
Yet now I've become a gibbering wreck
Whose confidence just hit the deck.

I loved outrageously flirting with men
Until a month ago and then
I suddenly felt self-conscious and shy
So lost the courage to even try.

I'm up, I'm down, my head's in a spin.
Every night I just want to stay in
And watch a movie - unthinkable for me,
This party girl who loved to feel free.

My cycle that was so automatic
Has now become annoyingly erratic,
And these hot flushes without a doubt
Are dragging me down and wearing me out.

The makeup I've always loved to wear
Now drives me to the depths of despair.
It settles into those wrinkles I see
On the woman in the mirror who's older than me.

My skinny jeans no longer fit,
As middle age spread is appearing a bit;
And muscle tone has gone to the wall.
My pride has certainly taken a fall.

I lose my keys. I lock myself out.
I'm going insane without a doubt.
I'm forgetting faces and names of places,
I even got lost at the Sandown races.

I'm beginning to feel unattractive and old -
And very unsexy, if truth be told.
So I skulk in the corner trying to hide.
To be seen, I can no longer abide.

So what is to become of me -
Do you think from this hell I'll ever be free?
It's high time Nature invented a clause
Forbidding the onset of menopause!

 

TYRANNICIDE

At the end
he saw them rush at him, seemingly
from nowhere and assumed
they had come to greet him
in celebration of his latest victory.
But they had no mercy, these turncoats;
no respect for his greatness,
as they stripped and tortured him
publicly.

What madness was this?
Had they forgotten who he was,
all he had done for them?
How he had risked his life
to seize power from a corrupt regime
in order to rebuild their country
brick by social brick
into a force to be reckoned with?
And he did it for them.
Surely they must see
that such independence has it's price:
that contrary views could not be tolerated,
that opposition must be eradicated
by whatever means necessary.
And fear was the only weapon
that was certain to control
a wealthy but unstable nation
like theirs...

But all they could see
were butchered kinsmen:
women, children - anyone
brave enough to challenge
the lies, treachery and broken promises
of a barbaric dictator, who
callously described such slaughter
as justifiable means.
And they'd finally had enough...

'What have I ever done to you?' he cried,
as he lay dying in the sweltering heat.
And a tearful young boy murmured,
'When they murdered my daddy,
you cheered...'
 

THE CHARMER

Oh master of illusion,
Enchanter of women
With starry vision
Needfully driven;

You rule unrivalled
Seduction's arena,
Stealing from others
Sisters, wives, lovers,

By filling their minds
With amorous fables
That override reason
To induce faith's treason.

And you display not the slightest
Shred of remorse
For lives torn apart
Nor each broken heart

That your moonstruck magic
Leaves behind,
When pastures new
Beckon to you:

A pretty face and flaming hair.
Shapely legs - she's the one.
This time for sure
You'll want no more.

Then in the morning
Two lovers awaken
In the golden flow
Of afterglow.

But her perfect body
Deified by night,
Grows mediocre by day
So you hasten away

To find another
Altogether better,
Where you woo and win
Another heart to bin.

Yet still we fall, fall,
God knows why we fall.
But tragically we do
Fall victim to you.

 

MIDNIGHT ON HAYLING BEACH

The stars are thick as pebbles
on the beach tonight.
Below, their reflections dance
through the black void
where night has swallowed the sea.
I could be anywhere -
there is nothing but stars:
a twinkling mass of neural pathways
inside the global brain of Mother Earth.
I am a thought inside her mind tonight,
a concept without form.

As pupils adjust to darkness, I see
something where the horizon should be:
bright pretty colours - some mobile.
Is she imagining a purpose for me?
Pathways are lighting up, as stars combine
with Isle of Wight illuminations.
Legend becoming real?
Have I lived before on the Dragon's Isle?
Am I apprenticed to Merlyn
in a parallel World?
I am embryonic in time.

Through the gentle lapping of ocean waves
Her kismet lullaby calls.
Is She singing me into madness divine:
giving birth to a higher me?
Am I born on those flaming torches
of passing pleasure craft
that slices through the fireflies
on a comet of orange-red?
For in it's wake, Picasso-ish, I see
transient fragments of our Lady's face
merging into mine.

My broken Soul is becoming whole
in the presence of Her healing love,
as stars reform to take their place
in the glyph of Her bequest.
These Heavens above are Her alphabet,
Her language the seascape below:
and Her hopes and dreams
manifesting through us
are shaping things to come.
So I'm picturing the World's heart
wrapped in arms
under Hayling stars tonight.



Photo: courtesy of Google Images