The purpose of life.

There is none ……

but self preservation.

Or the need to transmit our selfish gene,

smug in the fallacy,

that we shall inherit the earth.


Who are we ?

A bunch of smart simians,

on a rock hurtling through space.

Parasitic, competitive,

intent on draining our host, till we find the next place to breed.


This is perchance not evil intent

but the very cornerstone of our existence.

And some over everyone else have a ruse

to keep us calm, satiated, dominated,

entertained , as we try to outlive each other.


Annointed with  hyssop then, vaccinations now.

The times haven’t changed much

Although I would love to live a thousand years.

For I am much entertained by

the prospect of everything new.


They say, the truth lies in being alive.

And my grasp gets tenuous each passing day.

All these unguent salves of hope

don’t quell, doubts of my mortal dilemma,

the sad argument of my reality.


Each day  thinking I am closer to the eternal truth,

having resigned myself to the fact that there is none;

This hope gnaws at living entrails and tries to defeat death

And although I seek the restful slumber of the millennia

I am enamored of  the possibility that my memories may be recycled again.

Beaten and Broken.

Remember the old adage, ‘spare the rod and spoil the child’?

People do time if they beat their kids.

Social services jumps in on them.

Everyone is always on the lookout for bruises.

Tell-tale marks on skin and shin.

Don’t chastise your kid in public for that tantrum.

Don’t yell at them or chide them for swearing at you.

Bad parent! Bad parent! In the US of A.


Now if you are an adult woman.

Your man ‘disciplines’ you like it’s in your Holy Book.

Would you tell on him?

Or would you lie shamefaced in your own grief.

You have your own cross to bear.

Police services might not come by if you have no cause for complaint.

No one will watch out for you.

No one will scrutinize your body for the tell-tale signs.

When he bashes your teeth in, he’ll do it in private.

And he’ll call you a whore, a bitch and make you feel like shit, in the US of A.

A Smile

A stretching of cupid’s bow

my smile flirts with you.

In convivial aloneness

This smile can comfort few.


A lengthening of the labia oris,

Might lead that you be mistook for savant,

All recognise a smile in kindness and idle wisdom.

But perchance I allow me the liberty


of stretching cupid’s bow in my mundane appointments

you’d doubtless regard me effete.

Am I not a picture of perfection with a smile?

Hausfrau perfection or glazed magazine model perfection !

But Wall Street smart ? Authority figure smart? I reckon,

not with such facial affectation.