The madness of princess sarah

I remember you in the corridors
Of your own somewhat public hell
Looking dispossessed, afraid

“Is there stunning severed silence
In your void of damnation

There were loud voices in mine
Claustrophobic walls of shouting
That enclosed me within a prison of paranoia

Demons eked out of your curved back
Like sub snakes from their monster mother
And spiders oozed out of your thick greasy skin
Peeling and blooded emerging
From their blubbery placenta
Your wan grey and large pored
Drooping skin forming droplets
And fell in a rain
More blobs of eager lard than practical help
That left me staring blankly
At its puddle on the floor
But I thank you for coming to see me
My father never came”

In a room
A dysfunctional room
They can all hold hands
And talk in the soft clothes of mending
The animation and vitality that was such a feature
Of your personal glow
Has been dumbed down by the drugs
To a nothing … a nothing
A firefly of inspiration would be a great thing
To see in you again
Wheeling and whooping and not really harming anyone
I tell you
There were four score madder people at school with me
Long before the cruelty of medicine and the state
Endured to normalise the whole populace
For sure were crazies but they hid it within
Their owns hills and hummocks
And occasionally a stone showed up through the grass
I know they were too scared to share its joys and downs
With a world of thick cunts
Namby-pambies
And bourgeoisie do-gooders
It’s becoming a world of minimum hazard
Administered with a maze of fine nets and laws
like a rising flood
That would take the Niger of initiative
And drown him down
So his lungs don’t crow dissent
From trees of strange idiosyncrasies
And an unusual persona
Slightly strange mental geometrics

I remember you in the corridors
Of your own somewhat public hell
Looking dispossessed, afraid

I'm not that far away myself
My house is full of tins and paper
Piled in pilars of piles
It reminds me of a roman Bath
No that i care for the act of bathing
The waters too cold as the gas is disconnected
As i am too
I'm wandering into some oblique
But not unhappy oblivion
In the deep horizons of the other mind
We may hold hands