Saturday, December 29, 2007

Paranoia - Imperfect Prose

Terrible Tory Girl interrupts her political rants to bring her readers a paranoid poem.


Daddy never came,
for daughter lame,
her jaundiced grin,
and smoker's skin,
still left to claim.

In army stalls,
and military walls,
the child never knew,
her daddy to
bother and call.

Years that passed,
in hall and class,
with jibes of weight,
and food she ate,
and choice of eye glass.

In mirror she saw,
a hundred flaws,
a crooked nose
and drooping toes,
fit with gaping maw.

She thought she heard,
her appearance slurred,
on radio and street,
by men yet to meet,
a girl so stirred.

In vain and strife,
she cut short life,
gulping white pills,
for breath to still,
blood became rife.

With tearful plea,
mum sat by knee,
held in sad arms.
noting self harm,
as soul set free.

In death mum sighed,
she n'er lost pride.
Knelt by grave,
with one last wave,
she fell and died.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...


The old days call,
Its voices now fading,
reminding of what's been,
Of all that's here no more.

Long coach rides after work,
And late night tube rides,
Just to see you for a few,
Cherished memories even now.

With youthful passion at full,
Sweaty love and long nights,
A brief caress or slow embrace,
At times our world was just us two.

And for all the pain and hurt,
For all those tears cried alone,
Even now those old days call,
And how I miss them...