Stifled – A Voice For The Animals

(inspired by the film ‘Earthlings’)

Our lives have been stifled
We’re rife with tension.
Our children are condemned.
Our cries don’t get much mention.

What wild dream did you have for your life?
What fanciful fantasy did you feel you possessed?
What hope for a good life did you feel you had lost
Been left bereft of, dispossessed?

We’ve been held back, held down, bound and gagged.
We’ve been stripped of what’s legit,
Throttled, bottled …and bagged.
We’ve been packaged and labelled,
We’ve been set upon the table.
The fat cats have gathered,
They’ve got the gravy boats and ladles.

We’ve been used and abused,
Mis-used and bruised.
Misunderstood, trod underfoot, and misconstrued.

The big washing machine’s
passed us through the mangle.
We’ve been wrung out by the wringer,
We’ve been strung out and strangled.

What wild dream did you have for your life?
What fanciful fantasy did you feel you possessed?
What hope for a good life did you feel you had lost
Been left bereft of, dispossessed?

We’ve been caged and chained,
Maimed and made lame.
We’ve been twisted and wrenched, strained and sprained
We’ve been arranged and tamed, contained and constrained.
We’ve been estranged from our kin, cut off from our land,
Cut down in our prime, cut out of our hand.

We’ve been locked up and knocked up,
We’ve been docked and shocked.
We’ve been shut off from sunlight and chained to blocks.
We’ve been jammed in, rammed in, hemmed in and slammed in.
We’ve been managed and damaged, sandwiched in and crushed.

We’ve been force-fed and force-bled,
Medicated and sedated,
Pumped, plumped, and dumped with a diet of lead.

We’ve been shoved down and shackled and shunted along
They’ve put shutters on our minds
They shut up our songs.
They’ve shat upon and crapped upon us,
Zapped and sapped us of strength.
Hacked at us and wrapped us up on the butcher’s bench.

We’ve been corralled off and held off
And walled off in stalls.
We’ve been hauled off to the slaughterhouse
While we called out and bawled.

We’ve been rounded up and hounded, thrown around and knocked down.
We’ve been goaded and railroaded and loaded on trucks bound for town.
We’ve been towed and mowed under and snowed under with stress.
We’ve been stowed on the road where some are crushed to their death.
We’ve been jerked around and jarred, jostled and jammed.
We’ve been nabbed, grabbed and stabbed, jabbed and slammed.
We’ve been bullied and sullied, worried and hurried.
We’ve been harangued and hampered, clamped and penned.
We’ve been left perturbed and disturbed, in turmoil and trouble.
We’ve been seized with disease, left confused and muddled.
We’ve been left needing medicine, food and water.
We’ve been mauled and tortured, slaughtered and quartered.
We’ve been knocked and socked, clocked, bopped, whopped, and dropped.
We’ve been topped and lopped, sliced up and chopped.
Our blood been mopped up, our bodies sent to the shops.

What wild dream did you have for your life?
What fanciful fantasy did you feel you possessed?
What hope for a good life did you feel you had lost
Been left bereft of, dispossessed?

We’ve been herded and bewildered, murdered and killed.
Stabbed and skewered, flamed and grilled.
We’ve been bludgeoned and bashed, lashed, broken and thrashed.
Smashed and gashed open, lives and hopes dashed.
We’ve been robbed and ransacked, ravaged and ruined.
Fleeced and plucked, sent to our doom.

We’ve been presumed and imposed upon
Opposed, and suppressed,
Deposed, dispossessed, truly oppressed.

While you’re inundated with inanity,
Your sanity seems more like vanity.
How can you call yourselves humanity?

29 – 1 -2011

AEIOU

A – ambition to jump over the fence
E – the horizontal effort of the event
I – the stile side-on over which I stride
O – over I go onto the other side
U – the bump as I land down again

14 – 4- 06

The Child of Hills

Walk in the child of hills with legs that shine like apples
In pockets open to sunlight with daffodils holding the air.
Look to paper planes catching from leaves that green the blinking eyes
To butterflies lifting from waterfalls spreading fingers on the stairs.
Take chimneys dressed at daybreak passing shadows off the fields
Caught in waves at grassy ridges growing warm clouds off clear blue.
Wait near old brown bridges for shoes that hang like coloured fishes
And hide near branches folding out for worms in borrowed suits.
Show candles roaming under stars past roads that whistles turn to view
While seeds shy under fallen logs down past grey crickets hicupping.
Embrace long days at childhood’s end in meadows facing head downwind
And wrap full coats at owl’s long note in hair flung puddle-jumping.
  
13 – 3 – 05

 

A Very Rare Fear

A very rare fear
Make bear hide half a year,
Hibe burn nate ting in dark of his cave.

Scar rred by this fate
In lair bare but for hair,
Lies the bear head hear ring him bear rate.

Hear him bare his bear soul
Hate of self for the fear most,
Lost to whol worl dark goes in his mind.

Bury in side his bear hide
Feel here hole in his side,
Paws and sole of his feet same dull ache.

Have hurt seep ping at best
Home call him take king a rest,
Fear not I wont hunt you I am one of your kind.

One Sentence (2005 poem for my mother)

For my mum, my mother, a grand (young) lady,
Is her son, no other, her grown-up baby,
Come, to discover, in this grove so shady,
With a poem, how I love her, and with writing maybe…

Uncover, with the necessity, of rhyme and rhythm,
A lover’s propensity, to undermine in him,
Everything other, than underlying givens,
Nothing to cover the undenying fool’s whim…

To declare, forthright, the plain and simple truth,
That whether, for nights, I was staying under her roof,
Or otherwise, in flight (having left the nest as a youth),
I have never, despite the dress of appearing aloof…

Ever, though ways seem to part,
Severed her from my heart.
  
2005

Rune

Ravenrage diabolus crucifix knife
Hungred hunted the throth bound remain.
Inkquire peatbog in lumen light
Whenced cry carren chillen in hand.
Yestered homeheart beat no moren fire.
Trackened marshwood their steps falterbear.
Morst to me now inthen grast the chillen carren
Carren cross sarnt the night naughts to them.
Weast hathoer owne abiden book resplayn.
Tays the stories woven webs o oer clayin.
Noed need orsfor hammer sin crossbladen book.
Curn in deathmartyrs throes aftine crust masters cruik.
Callered light crowerd cowl beats ashame.
Moren men suchas like wi no name.
Send tha hundread ahunt ferus here.
Thas wimin carren chillen in theys nayre ayear
Theysorl carryairn sweet dearones agin.
Romen crossern nayst acallered them in.
Ahd curlin acornkindred moon enda myne.
Adepped as asleept in nowre plumered clouerwine.
Cries onye thaes noosehaltered hounds.
Nae sons daughters wies owre’en us thattheys bound
Will gead wyrds to thae cawr book.
Thaes hang deatheyes ofteare kindred avain.
Ours alongain runningean faers a’ wimin
Eyn carreyn chirren weast towr remain.

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Revision as a ‘Translation’, 26 May, 2018:

Rage Rune (‘Rune’ (revision)

Ravenrage diabolus crucifix knife
(Middle Ages heathen/pagan/country folk angry at Christianity’s invasive force)

Hungred hunted the throth bound remain.
(We bound by the truth have been hunted and are hungry)

Inkquire peatbog in lumen light
(Exiled to peat bogs and dim marshes, and have cause to question fate)

Whenced cry carren chillen in hand.
(Where and how are our distant children carried by their mothers?)

Yestered homeheart beat no moren fire.
(Yesterday’s – times of yore – homes are no longer lit with hearthfires)

Trackened marshwood their steps falterbear.
(Tracked and hunted in the marshes, their feet falter, then they bear up again)

Morst to me now inthen grast the chillen carren
(It has been my experience too at times, to take the children, carry them)

Carren cross sarnt the night naughts to them.
(It is nothing to these children, this cross that you carry)

Weast hathoer owne abiden book resplayn.
(We have our own resplendid and holy book that abides with us)

Tays the stories woven webs o oer clayin.
(It tells the stories our ancestors have woven over many generations)

Noed need orsfor hammer sin crossbladen book.
(We have no need for a hammer and crossblade-laden book)

Curn in deathmartyrs throes aftine crust masters cruik.
(Churned out from the death of martyrs and the high priests’ crooked power)

Callered light crowerd cowl beats ashame.
(Many meanings: Our light may be diminished under cowls of darkness, we may seem like cowering crowds, cowards, but the hallowed light glints on our beaks like dark crows of light all the same…)

Moren men suchas like wi no name.
(And there are many more men such as us who have been robbed of good name)

Send tha hundread ahunt ferus here.
(So send you a hundred or more to hunt for us – the feral – here)

Thas wimin carren chillen in theys nayre ayear
(Those/these women have carried their children like refugees for nearly a year)

Theysorl carryairn sweet dearones agin.
(They – those all – will carry all their dear sweet ones again)

Romen crossern nayst acallered them in.
(This Roman Empire religion of the Cross won’t call/collar/corral them in)

Ahd curlin acornkindred moon enda myne.
(And I’ve curled under the trees and moon with my kind wife and my children/kin)

Adepped as asleept in nowre plumered clouerwine.
(Adept as I, as they have slept peacefully in our plumed and plum red clear and coloured wine of dreamtime)

Cries onye thaes noosehaltered hounds.
(Cry on all those of your death-serving tracking hounddogs)

Nae sons daughters wies owre’en us thattheys bound
(No sons or daughter or wives of ours – or us – that you might catch and bind)

Will gead wyrds to thae cawr book.
(Will give/cede words to your (thy) coward’s book)

Thaes hang deatheyes ofteare kindred avain.
(Yes, you hang and give death eyes to our dear kin in vain)

Ours alongain runningean faers a’ wimin
(Our a-long-time running and gaining ancient fair ones (faery children) and women)

Eyn carreyn chirren weast towr remain.
(Who have always carried the children will always – in the west tower – remain)