She Sleeps With The Light On…

. . . Just in case,

The night is still,

There’s not a sound,

Except the rumbling of a distant truck,

Which propels her into a memory;

It was of the time when she had her babies,

A marriage bed full of passion, youth & hope,

It was a time long before these lean times.

 

She sleeps with the light on because . . .

The phone might ring;

The Angel of Death in Her chariot,

Has swept down again, mercilessly and,

In her cruel and twisted way has,

Extracted another of her loved ones.

 

She sleeps with the light on,

So that the memory of her lost loves,

Doesn’t overwhelm her,

Because they can’t – you know – if you have the light on,

The memory of the contour’s of their bodies,

Their gentle or wild thrusts,

Their whispered indulgences,

All held at bay.

 

She sleeps with the light on,

To stop the snoring in the empty room,

The footsteps on the hallway boards,

The growling from the ceiling,

The ghosts remain invisible and can’t see you,

Or hurt you with the light on.

 

She sleeps with the light on,

So that if she wakes with a night terror,

She will instantly see her lovely things around her,

And, after some time,

Gain some comfort and soothe herself back to sleep.

 

She sleeps with the light on,

Because she doesn’t know what awaits her in the black dimension;

Dreams of babies long gone,

Lovers lost, souls removed from her life by death,

Quick as a flash and still half in slumber,

She can grab her pencil & paper,

And jot down the rhymes – such as this one – as they come to her at 3am.

umbr

 

 

 

 

 

 

Mr Wordsmith:

She liked to “rescue” the hopeless cases,

Or that was what she was told anyway,

But also, he had to have a way with words,

To read her soul, to woo her back as she was walking away,

Reminisce over the good times,

Talk to her about nothing, in particular, to relax her,

Gratefully receive her mementos of love (poetry mainly),

If all of these boxes were checked, then yes, she’d take it!

He would become the latest soon-to-be ex,

Completely worthy of her love.

man and brain

 

 

Is anybody out there?

She’s watching over me;

My baby girl who thinks,

That because I disposed of her,

That I despised her.

 

She watches over me until I’m bones on the ground

girl and eye

 

 

Between my fingers:

She falls:

From grace,

From sight,

From God,

From herself.

 

It’s when she sleeps,

She meets them again;

All her lost loves,

The ones she let slip between her fingers.

 

girl and sleep

Daddy, I’m running on empty…

Is that you, daddy?

Is that you haunting me?

It’s time to say goodbye,

So take your noose and fly.

 

I’ll blow you a kiss,

But just remember this,

Don’t take it the wrong way,

Don’t make me regret,

Having my say.

 

Because little girls don’t know,

They just don’t know, daddy,

And I was just a little girl,

After all (I can’t make you happy)!

 

And because of you,

I can’t fill up,

Not even with the wrong men,

At the wrong time and,

In the wrong place …

girl running on empty since daddys curse

 

Don’t Fence Me In:

She couldn’t be owned,

Freedom was her only desire,

The men came and offered,

Themselves to her,

She dips her toe into the moon,

And then dives in;

The lunacy of her cycle is upon her,

She may want him now,

But she won’t in two weeks.

The roller coaster begins its ascent.

girl and cat

 

 

Sleeping with scissors:

Her beloved – dead and buried in the ground,

Sleeps in the next room to her,

To keep an eye on her.

 

She doesn’t like the growling in the night,

So she sleeps with scissors,

But apart from that, sublimely peaceful.

man colour

 

 

Did you ever really love me?

What chance did I have?

. . . and there they go,

There goes all of the people,

Like soldiers in the snow.

 

Down they go,

Straight into hell,

Gone forever from me,

(And yet still within),

Stinking up the place with their smell.

 

Little scars inside of me,

That probably won’t ever heal,

And now I’ve got writer’s cramp,

A numbness, an ambivalence,

But am peaceful in the Still.

TV2