Silas’ Revenge

and he laughed as
he left
the room, now white
and empty.

freedom called
(mother said)
so silas strolled along the street

silas returned home.
home – is it
where the heart is?

certainly the
was there…
a foot
and brain.

but Silas had hidden
the heart

Rather well.

My Uncle Silas

My Uncle Silas was a psychopath,
And every Sunday, after tea, He’d
Slaughter some Goats, saying it was,
“For Practice”

Occasionally, Silas would sing to us.
His singing was loud and drunken,
And it was incoherent, for He sang as
He drank His victims’ blood.

Today, Silas has gone away. Mother
Doesn’t know where he is. She
Claims that He never existed. But she
Must be wrong, for I’ve seen Silas-
I saw Him inside my mind.

Summertime (Part 1)

When The Child returned
(for his tea) –
all was quiet.

but then
HE came home

and HE sat down

and HE shouted at
The Child.

Crying, the child left,
running to escape the
horrors, of

Bedroom, refuge, sanctury.
Safety in numbers: the child
hides behind his calculator

but fearing the worst
sudden change, no more pain
the child, terrified,
it was for the best
decides to go to the magic place
have mercy Lord!
to live happily ever after.

And when he gets there
(should such a time exist)…
his Dreams will be fulfilled.

Amended 10 January 2003

The beauty of the urban springs

Today I planted my child
I buried it alive-
Like Lettuce seeds
In the garden, next to the rosebush.

I think it cried in terrified pain –
The agony of living was too great for it.
Unless of course it was a complaint;
That I’d broken its legs first.

So now I think I’ll have a party-
A celebration of its life.
For it’s a good child-
Especially now it’s buried.

I wonder if I’ll grow another one