Generic post-breakup analysis (hers)

I love your mem’ry more
Than what you were to me in life.
Though I still daydream daily
Of my role then as your wife.
I tried to do my duty
Did the best job that I could.
I think we just weren’t meant to last
Our match was not too good.
I, far too jealous would become
Without you by my side,
And you would feel quite suffocated
By my endless pride.
We’d rub each other constantly
‘Til fur would start to fly,
Then I would comfort you in shame
Each time you’d start to cry.
We never solved our problems
And yet argued without end.
I loved you as a mother
You preferred me as a friend.
So everything imploded
As things came to quite a head.
I never got to blow my top –
My reason turned you red.
We parted with great sorrow,
But, with also great relief.
For separation somehow,
Despite distance, caused no grief.
I can’t forget my lover,
Though I hear you have moved on.
We hurt each other deeply
And these feelings won’t begone.
I cannot wish you evil,
That would go against the grain.
But with your joy, I counsel
That you also bear some pain.
For one without the other,
No sense can it construct,
As concepts out of balance:
Sep’rate are just fucked.

Dedicated follower of fashion

The modern dandy is a scruff
Whose clothes can never cost enough!
On public transport he refrains
From standing up – to crease his jeans.
His hair is gelled to stay in spikes
For fear of flatness – he dislikes
To wash or brush it – he disdains
He stares in windows while on trains
To check that nothing is in place
For tidiness would mean disgrace!
And should it ever come to pass
That he displayed a bit of class?
He never more could slouch among
The truly fashionable throng.

Matchmaker, matchmaker, break me some chairs

My mother, from a tender age
Provoked in me an untold rage.
A constant stream of boys she fed
So hoping soon to see me wed.
But without fail, my dear old mum
Her process of selection done,
Presented me, ‘mid gleeful joy
With one especial type of boy:
A lovely lad, quite neat and clean
So liberal he voted Green,
And above all, (it made my day)
Yes, quite invariably gay.

A sudden sharp blow to the brain

The vice-like grip, at ten a.m. is but a warning, a presage of what is to come. A small twinge, a twitching of muscles, a lightly furrowed brow, then silence. You count the seconds, watch the tumbleweed jump and dance, twisting in the wind as it skips across the hastily vacated brainscape, and you pray for solitude. Eleven o’clock comes and goes, bringing with it a mild headache and a growing sense of foreboding that has nothing to do with the glowering boss lurking behind the advised (and advisable) plate-glass partition. It starts. Twelve thirty sees you staggering toward the cafeteria for a polystyrene cup of boiling monosodiumglutomate and a hunk of stale foam, encased in concrete, and sadistically coated in sesame seeds to provide you with the government-recommended daily requirement of gum-disease. The clouds pass by the window as you pick at your teeth with a ragged fingernail. Your email states that it’s nearly three, but time has little meaning here in the land of artificial light. The phone rings, your ears pop, and suddenly it hits, blinding, terrifying, hideous. You clamber out of the pit and cradle the receiver. Hello? A list of pointless instructions issues forth without provocation. The knife slices vertically through your skull, leaving nothing.

Perceptions (or a mirror on fashion)

The boy I spy across the aisle
His mac done up in grand old style
Considers he is quite a dasher
Pity he’s dressed like a flasher.

I like big earrings, yes Siree
But harbour no illusion
That dressing like a Christmas tree
Won’t cause the cat confusion.

Mohair jumpers, baby pink – though popular with some;
Enough to drive a boy to drink – when girlfriend’s dressed like Mum.
For well loved garments such as these, although a recent fashion,
Were all the rage a score ago, and fanned our parents’ passion.

Song of the smitten

Mi spingi lontana di te
Mi spingi lontana, perche?
Io son quasi fuori di me!
Ma tu non hai cuore, e mi spingi ancora.

Mi son ‘namorata, c’era ‘na volta
Mi son piegata con quegli tuoi occhi.
Occhi ben scuri, e bocca del diablo,
Lo sguardo m’incrocia e non vedo piu.

Mi sei torturando, lo sai.
Piu che lo fai, piu che piangerei.
Ti voglio poi bene e come e quanto
Ti voglio tanto ma mi vuoi far piantar…

Mi son ‘namorata, c’era ‘na volta
Mi son piegata con quegli tuoi occhi.
Occhi ben scuri, e bocca del diablo,
Lo sguardo m’incrocia e non vedo piu.

Canzon del stalker

Quando mi perdo, sola nel buio
Ti voglio bene, ma non sei piu mio.
Ti voglio tanto, ma tu mi sei perso
Poi io canto, per tentar di cambio.

Tu sarei mio, quando e quanto non so
Ma poi sai che ti voglio tanto
Tu mi tornera… forse l’estate
Ti amo, ti voglio, ma tu lo sai pure.

E poi ti vedo, in mezzo del’ folla
Mi rende pazza: t’abbracciando un altra!
Quel altra, Donna; ragazza, fanciulla che sono;
Domani vergogna t’avra!

Tu eri mio, c’era (u)na volta,
Non so se mi torni, ma come ti voglio!
Tu che mi manchi, con quella puttana,
Ti vedo, ti voglio, domani t’avro!

Oggi ti sposi con quella puttana,
Io son sbarrata, non vedro le nozze.
Piu che mi rispingi, piu che ti vo’
Io non vedo l’ora che vedova sei…

Tu sarei mio, quando e quanto non so,
Ma poi sai che ti voglio tanto.
Mi tornera sai, e forse l’inverno;
Ti amo, ti voglio, ma non mi vuoi piu!

Emergency waiting room scribbles

Suddenly the dam bursts,
Letting all the feelings flow,
The lust and the pain,
Tears I never let show,
All the misery builds
As the hurricane grows
And then calm in the eye of the storm.

I can cry forever
But my eyes will miss their sight
I can scream my hatred
But that’s giving up the fight.
So I grab the reigns more tightly
As I store the pain up nightly
How I miss the most unkindly cut of all.
And again, all the tears fail to fall.

I need a release, God! When?
Will I ever find peace, again?
Could I take a break now?
Then when?
Does it ever get easier?

Power Ballad

A while back, my other half was in the A and E. It was a really bad time for it – a Saturday night, late. There were a lot of emergencies and the aftermath of a botched drugs bust, i.e. police everywhere, people screaming, covered in blood, as well as the usual drunks, illness, domestic violence, suicides and accidents. I managed to get him seen to straight away as he was a genuine emergency, but due to the chaos we got separated. My mind wouldn’t stop buzzing, shut in the lousy atmosphere of the relatives room, surrounded by other people praying or cleaning up after their battered kids and preparing to give up. I couldn’t settle, sat there in my pyjamas, sweatshirt and trainers, listening to the terrified screams of someone in withdrawal on the other side of the wall, so I tried to put some of the turmoil down on paper to get it out without adding to the noise myself. What follows are the variable results:

Sometimes it’s the silence
That causes us to weep.
Life in all its violence
Maybe just lack of sleep?
But somewhere in the darkness
That clings about us all
The light of something glitters
And you catch me as I fall

To my knees, in silence
You don’t fear the violence
You bring peace
And lay me down at last
Until the night has passed.

Alone amidst the madness
I feel the others crash.
Their tears break hearts, bring sadness,
As mental Titans clash.
I’m standing there, an island
Surrounded by the gloom
And you light up my world
As I see you ‘cross the room.

You are there, I need you
Please beware, I need you.
Don’t let go!
I’m shaking from the blast
The dawn will come at last.

And when I feel your heartbeat
That thrums about my ears,
The strong arms that enfold me,
The love to dry my tears,
You keep me safe in chaos
I feel you, strong and true.
I love you, please believe me –
It all comes down to you.

You are there, when I need you
And you care. How I need you!
I don’t know where I was long ago
Before I knew you…

You are strong, I know it!
Feel you there, you show how
Much you care
That I get through all right
You give me strength to fight.