childish

B*ll*cks to the bakesale!

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I am not sure whether it was
The burnt banana bread
Or the under-spiced
Over-baked biscuits
That did it
But I am thoroughly
Sick-as-a-dog
Fed up to the back teeth
And beyond
With the schoolyard
B*llsh*t bakesale
Not just the politics
The cut and thrust
Of who gets to bake
And who gets to buy
At the thrice termly
Repeating misery
That is the fundraiser
Conspicuous, competitive,
Consumption
For a school committee
With more money
Than common sense
Soliciting donations:
Baked goods; sweets; 
Good-as-new toys;
Dictating requirements:
Own clothes; costumes;
Odd shoes; socks;
Random coloured shirts;
Hair ribbons; headgear;
We all pay for a day
Out of uniform
Or suffer culinary torture
Face it, ladies
I can actually cook
But my kitchen will never be
One hundred percent
Gluten or nut-free
I don’t want to poison
Anyone (by accident)
And I resent the waste
Of good ingredients
This charade entails
Let’s just forget it
The whole in-crowd
Phenomenon
What are we, twelve?
Phooey to the PTA!
Us working mums have
Bigger problems
Than dusting off a dirndl 
To play at housewife
On a weekday afternoon
Though what you choose
To do with your own time
Is none of my business.
And that was my 
Considered, rational,
Personal perspective
Before we ate the
Glitter-encrusted
Muffin of doom
That somehow gave
The entire family
Galloping gut rot
(Even the cat)
Don’t ask me how
I no longer care
We have run out of
Buckets, bog roll,
And fresh underwear
Seriously,
Screw the whole thing!
I am switching to
Online donations
At least they don’t
Require that I provide
Correct change
Nor that I invest my
Hard earned paycheck
In industrial quantities
Of bathroom bleach
And antacids
Only to be sneered at
By the clique of
Suzie home-maker
And sycophants
Holding court
At the school gate
Judging me and mine
For our contribution
To the latest cause

Green Poem for F

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2

This is a green poem

With a knobble on top

It contains things that are green

Like leaves and cucumber

Runner beans

Perhaps even spinach

Please don’t tell my daughter

Who commissioned this poem

And wouldn’t approve

Of lurking vegetables

Though apparently a pole is

Both necessary and ‘de rigueur’

Not sure what the pole is for

Maybe it helps keep the knobble

On top

Noisy neighbour

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6

Bang! The childish adult kicks the ball
It Bang! shakes the fence Bang! and
Scatters the Bang! birds from their
Treetop nests. Bang! He is bored, this
Bang! boy child whose body out Bang!
Grew his mind un Bang! til he was
Shut inside Bang! with the other misfits.
Bang! The rose petals fall Bang! covering
The Bang! grass with their Bang! broken
Blossoms. Bang! The nurse calls to
Bang! shake him from where Bang! ever
It is he Bang! goes when the mood to
Bang! kick has over Bang! taken his
Desire to bounce Bang! on the squeaky trampoline
Or Bang! to pee on the syca Bang! more
Tree asserting his Bang! dominance over
Bang! deceitful foliage that Bang!
Whispers secrets Bang! for only his
Bang! ears. Twenty seven. A
Magic square. I wonder if he knows…

Bang!