Requiem for a Genius*
Your mind so quick
And slick
Faster than a speeding bullet
But unable to let
Good reason
Not become treason
Surely I must be the best….
Your mind could not rest
Second was nowhere
For you, as your care
For everyone
To create things to bring fun
To all…..
Was your downfall
Geniuses do that because…they can
You did this, a master plan
Doomed to failure
The allure
Of the power to make everyone content
Your Achilles heel as it meant
You could never accept any of your perceived rejections
Because a mind full of perfections
Does not recognise it
So you fall to the ground
Struck down without a sound….
Finished off fatality
By the sharpest arrow called….. reality
*Written at home on 4th February 2020 and later performed on bequest of Ellie Day’s parents today. A friend and creative equal who at 27 in January 2020 decided this world was not for her. It is based on my experience and view on why others may decide that.
Hideous
Horrendous
Ignominy
Devious
Evil
Ostentatious
Unilaterally
Shamed
Could You?
Run naked across a sports field
Strike
Back a war
Put an animal to sleep
Reject a child’s love
Be…you
Could you?
Lost and Found
Love lost or found
I wish I had a pound
For every time
I have dined
And doth entwined
With these two combatants
Les enfants terribles
As lost and found have engulfed me
Neh, eaten me alive
Lost stung me harder than a beehive
Full of angry bees
And found confused my knees
So made them wobble
But as ever I doth knobble
The chance of romance impressively…
Consistently
Fear factor
Or to be a benefactor
Of someone’s love too confusing…
Bemusing
For my analytical mind?
Probably but having dined
On lust and pleasure
And been devoured by them, no longer are they a treasure
To discover…
Instead like the words lost and found
They ultimately are full of intrepidation, so the perfect match to
The feeling… profound
Progress
Ah the dubious delights of festivals
Fun fairs
Egos
A lot of time looking at yer toes
Coz you can’t see above the crowd
So you absorb the loud
Sound
Letting spin around
In yer bonce
Then once
The acts are finished
You walk home… but the noise is not diminished
As it remains in your body
Just like the voice of Mr Holder, Noddy Sleep does not come easy…
Peasy
As the elation….
Sensation
Like verbal, visual electricity
And the eccentricity
On display
Wipes any dismay
In your mind
And fill your body with thoughts a kind
So when you sleep
Wake up and look at yer feet
You doth confess
Ah the joy of a music festival can only ever make you… in life… progress
Democracy
Demonised
Eternally
Memorably
Overtly
Corrupted
Regularly
Always
Challenging
Youngers
Textastic
Well should you expect a reply
To your text or cry
Bitch or
Bastard
When no reply is forthcoming and get flustered
And yer knickers in a twist…
Clench a fist
Stomp yer feet
Throw yer neat pile of ironing across the room
Shove a broom up yer arse…
Shout this… is… a..farce
Or
Relax and open the door…
To understanding…
Tranquility
And realise it is not all about… moi
But instead a ménage a trois
Of literal exchanges
You know, from me to you and the wait which engages
Your patience which is a virtue
You…
Realise…
And… miraculously
Accept the go between…
the wait
And embrace its cathartic bait…
So bite onto the hook…
Look…
In the mirror
And realise…
Our sighs Of frustration
Are actually true elation
And fantastic
As to get a reply at all… is…
TEXTASTIC
Photograph by Moshe Tasky and used under permission.
