The peacock butterfly.

I thought that I was numb,
void of the illusions
of societies suggestive reactions to the evolutionary
process of feeling.
But I see now that I wasn’t.
I was simply holding back
Letting the over whelming
instinct of protection, guard
Against intruders, I simply didn’t want people to see,
Me.
I wanted to remain hidden behind the facade, the
Masquarade.
Unseen, un blemished,
Untouched,
There has never been a rush.
Although i’ve never cared,
For anothers thoughts on me,
I ‘ve seen what it is that they see,
And defended myself, one too many times,
Whilst always staying on that little thin line.
Now I have conviction in my voice,
Hiding, is another persons choice,
Im not scared, i was never scared,
To feel,
I simply never believed, they were real.
But as I explore my own mind,
Curious with the finds,
I know, I am not numb and void of the illusions of socities suggestive reactions to the evolutionary process,
Of being alive.

Karen Ann bread and jam!

I remember a time when all I could cook was toast.
At the very most,
Toast and jam,
Which pleased my elders,
As they flew down memory lane,
Karen Ann bread and jam,
It’s all she ate then,
It’s all she eats now.
I remember a time when
It was you in the kitchen,
Bitching,
Cos it was never me,
I used to run and flee,
When the pans came out,
And dad did shout.
I remember calling you up,
To find out,
How to bake a potato,
Yep,
A potato,
Cos i didn’t know.
And how to make
Cup cakes.
At first, she, would make me
Rhubarb crumble to take home,
I certainly never moaned.
Dad fed me, at every opportunity,
Always ringing, to see
Whether i was free.
Then I realised I missed
real food,
I missed dads dinners,
I missed vegetables, bolognaise,
I missed bolognaise the most,
Dad made one, of which to boast.
So I set out to cook,
Didn’t use a book,
There was always the chip shop,
If it was a flop.

I remember a time,
I tell my daughter
As i take the fruit strudel
Out from the oven,
and turn the cheesy scones,
A quick stir of the thick tomato sauce speckled with basil ,
I remember a time, when Grandad let me be, so I could play, till the day that I was ready. I remember a day when I couldn’t cook,
not even with a book.