poison arrow

3/2/12

The Little Silver Bell.

A little silver bell rings crystal clear,

But because it is inside a box, noone hears it.

That's what it is like for Dennis,

He's peeling, working, with his message;

'Ding Dong' perfectly, though because

He's wrapped up, harnessed, swaddled, and swathed,

In cushioning packaging,

Noone can hear his perfect chimes!

He's muzzled, or censored. Silent.

That's not nice, a toy only,

On display, a show piece, a trophy.

No sound emits his form.

His use as a bell is taken away.

He is not a bell,

He is disabled.

A padded box will keep him safe, forever.

When I look at myself in the mirror, I see a black widow spider. A typical smoker. A woman who wants to break free of fish odour and family ties. Who lives in a world of darkness and who is broken and sad. Who has poor hygiene, and doesent look after herself -at times-slipping into a morbid black.

Her stomach-too fat-with baby fat 12 years on. A dangerous look to her, with glasses and hair, dark and long.

Sometimes she looks like a mental patient !- A fat, mid waist- an extra tyre around her waist.

Happy when she sings the latest pop tune in her head. Music she equates with well being.

Music is being herself ! Sad and lonely, in a room she sits. Thinking back

'You didn't love me then'

'You make fun of me' 'poor scorn on me', 'leave me mad and upset'.

The tune you hum, a whistle in her ear.

Are you frightened ? As slowly, she wraps you round her finger.
On a ticket to nowhere love is her passion.
Is that what you think ?
Thats how you see me, isn't it ?
As someone bad, suspect, dodgy.
Your stereotype and stigma, without even knowing me,
is reflected in my eyes.