Notes on Psychiatry in 1972

Fairmile stood between the A329 and the Thames a bus ride from home an institution and though I shunned the one at school, it was better than babysitting: a pay slip with a uniform; this was pocket money, with psychology and cool. They’d said I could begin the work observing a new trial, reducing nastyContinue reading “Notes on Psychiatry in 1972”

Queen

It had all been all very strange: assimilating change; recoiling from and at once irresistibly drawn to magnetising ritual and cloying tradition; reliving every death, every loss, every sad transit; arguing perpetually with the chit chat that makes no sense; fielding hurt; guarding against regret; balancing the irrefutably irrational with authentic emotive floods. And thenContinue reading “Queen”

Eunice or Rose

‘Blown away’ in ‘22 is sinisterNot ‘far-out-blown away’ as of yesteryearBut in your face – hysterical – ‘I told you so,but you didn’t hear’. And still the individualsuffers dreadful guilt,about the vats of detrius we’re soldand told,and dutifully do, to recycle tooknowing, had we hadn’t bought it – it might not have caused,problems for ourContinue reading “Eunice or Rose”

My Mother’s Desk

(work in progress) My Mother’s Desk My mother’s desk contains remains behest and left unturned: a concentrated turquoise Quink; a fountain of ancestral prose, its oak re-turned by shapes of elbowed woes, ingrained as pain was softened, shaped to narratives that yearned to reach a whisper’s speech, pale-blue, light as air-mail’s flight,  ocean’s drift,  kiss-wished and sinceContinue reading “My Mother’s Desk”

Ticking Clock

I mistook The News for a 1960’s apocalyptic film occupying the living room as I wound the clock.  The scenes of: masked men, camouflaged for hand-to-hand combat on the battle field, reduced to silhouettes against a backdrop of feigned sterility; weeping nurses; statisticians counting costs and casualties, crept from live screens’ news today, seeking solaceContinue reading “Ticking Clock”

Alabama Three

Pecking Order Demote the Wizards in your life Promote yourself from Elf:  Bitch? Boss? Mother? Wife?  Neutralise and be your sElf. Exasperation’s justified, there really is no cause  for Wizardry at all. Henpecked husband Oppressed wife  Elf or victim, devotee, A self-fulfilling prophecy.  lived without a  need.  Promote yourself from Elf.  (Push buddha off – aContinue reading “Alabama Three”

Being

Above, beyond all awe, accidents’ existents soar, distancing earth’s chance coincident inhabitants from inquiring of the mystery of being,  to provide,  instead,  fodder for the disaffected, who meditate on how to occupy the moon rather than the moment’s miracle and living. 

Falling still

Photo credit and reference: ‘’The Falling Man”, taken September 11, 2001, shows a man falling from the Twin Towers in NYC during the terrorist attacks/Photo Credit: Richard Drew/AP Falling Still All monoliths against the sky memorials to memory –  All stunning echoings of those  twinned towers – Two decades now, of falling man, of photographic-epitaph, Continue reading “Falling still”

Fight for breath

If malaria were covid air born,  bred in air-conditioned suites, where transit passengers enjoy a smorgasbord of delicacies  and drink in benefits  an eden-company provide to those who’re paid to think  of ways to double dollars,  might the thing that bites and blights the night (its sister dengue fever’s  adapted now to light) be vaccination’sContinue reading “Fight for breath”

survivors of

Whatever you and your therapist came to agree, put to rest and resolved, a suicide accompanies the bereaved as if a living-dead they escort through life. Beware the Achilles Heals of those with tough exteriors who’ve learnt how to live, despite un-told burdens bequeathed, which thrive still in the living-yet, bullying vampirically as if otherwiseContinue reading “survivors of”

Eve and Newton tend to agree

Sugar, spice, newts and toads …  Possibly if myths proposed  newts and toads were the spice of life,  their inverse being sugary sweet,  and being nice the very worst vice, men might not possess their girls, daddies’ alter-egos might live their lives quite authentically – and feel no need to hitch a ride on theirContinue reading “Eve and Newton tend to agree”

Our Covid

(Covid is a global humanitarian crisis)  The visiting vicar filled our heads, at Primary School  on Thursday afternoons, with tales of gloom the testaments had prophesied:  floods and viral pestilence he couldn’t begin to describe.  He told us it was punishment  for being Humankind. #bees #waste #tinyspinningrock  Cherry Coombe. May 2021.

love

love  love, a blunt instrument, turned at will to wound (the injury appearing a chance consequence of circumstance – a karmic happenstance – likened to deforestation) cremates the will to give, to thrive, survive, shallows breath, leadens veins and bereaves

Un-wrest Covid’s unrest

within a year, I’d got the lot:  Tourette’s & ADHD; anorexia, assumed bulimia, probably; dreadful heart disease;  lung cancer and hypertension; terrible anxieties –  turning left at intersections, rather than the right, certain that the clutch would seize imagining the telegrams the children would receive; convinced by all the media warnings: health services were onContinue reading “Un-wrest Covid’s unrest”

64

64’s careless, insecure, unsure what the mortgage was for; rude to the boss, aggrieved, bereaved; feels 13, holding the parents’ car keys, freed; and parties, piles the lot on the pyre, aspires to die, why not? A cavalier year which fear garrottes. 64’s a being been.

Philip’s Laureate

If I were the poet laureate – as ifTough callThe pharmaceuticals cash in – as it’sUsual to lieWhen somebody it’s easy to dislikeDiesGet on the Citaloprin in case you cry Mother, father, monarch, mindEven if you don’t approve and findYou cryThat’s fine.You might be moved and even ifYou do – approve, So? And? Accidents ofContinue reading “Philip’s Laureate”

Stage

Easter came and penance paid a memory of Simnel,  one an aunt had made,  and later after Sunday’s roast,  picnic car-boot hail and sun,  betting on the last in race This year my neighbours laid a patio –  a stone-ground-marble-blasted stage.  It only took four days.

Not just All Women

Ferdinand Saussure explained the way that binaries are imposed through language. Identity is made up from the ‘othered’ things we’re not. (For example – I am not a man therefore I must be a woman.)  The early twenty first century addressed the verbal lacks that pose themselves to those who live between opposition’s tracks. WeContinue reading “Not just All Women”

Cuckoo

Cuckoo There is comfort in sounds: the sensation of next door’s washing, spinning; loud and bitter arguments filtering through heating vents; warning beeps on rubbish trucks backing into culdesacs, wintering summer’s tenements and tin-bin clanking detritus singing communities’ symphonies; whispers, pianissimo, drifting winds’ secrets shed in rustling papered autumn leaves, and birds re-chorusing territories, makeContinue reading “Cuckoo”

in lieu of

Covid Muses – do you miss the stuff that used to be enacted round the kitchen table – chats – coffee – life? Just someone else’s mess in the house or mud/armpits/dramas/joys/face/dress sense/addictions/obsessions/affairs/errors/successes/awards/contractual wins/love stuff/hair do/difference/similarity/arguments/making one think/ I miss the odd now and then – the odd drop in with a surprise – aContinue reading “in lieu of”

Alzheimer’s

Is it cruel whenlife does what it doesAs if to youIt’s only what its genomes doKilling friends you thought that youmight just predeceaseInfecting the most virtuousignoring all the worst of usWho thriveto spiteAll Bibles’ threatsof poxAnd your school’s best genius,the one born streets ahead of usLife swipescuts throughA child who surviveda LifeSplitin two.