Lover

Here is another new poem, inspired by a recent visit to the psychiatric unit at Llandough Hospital, Cardiff.

Lover

Your mind, like blown glass,
Has cracked.

They have taped up
What they can. Only a few
Fragments are missing.

In the tea room,
An older woman in tight jeans brags about how
You give her bear hugs.

In the hallway, a girl

Is pulling herself toward the door,
On the floor. Ragdoll thin,
Her hair streams behind her
Like a wedding veil.

You are bearded. A young prince.
Dandruff confettis your shoulders
As you hold court.

You are popular here.
It is Sunday, and I am your fifth visitor.

You tell me you love me.
You want to show me your poems but
They are in the older woman’s room.

I see two people I know:
A sex offender I taught to write haiku.
A well-to-do woman
I need to invoice for work.

You put sugar in my coffee,
Forgetting that I do not
Take it.

You kiss me. I kiss back.
I am let out and walk past traffic,
Keep walking until
I don’t know where I am.

You drink tea. Set up pieces
On a board game
You do not know how to play.

Bedroom Tax protest/poem

Today I took part in a protest outside the office of LibDem's Jenny Willott, after the MP decided to continue supporting the bedroom tax in the face of opposition from the people she is supposed to represent. I had been asked to write a poem about the fact that Jenny had ignored requests from concerned citizens to talk about this, instead choosing to spend time on the much-more important issue of - rubbish. Yes, that's right - apparently the black bags outside our homes, and their collection, is far more important to Jenny than the people currently losing their homes, and being dumped outside like rubbish themselves!

In the end, Jenny did not turn up to her own office, and cancelled her usual Friday surgery. With families being forced to sell furniture to pay the tax, many falling into debt, and still others facing threats of eviction (if they haven't been evicted already), it seemed both cold and cowardly for the MP not to turn up to meet us today. The police were there, as usual, and were very polite and helpful indeed - they are constituents too, after all. This bedroom tax is hitting many of us, and it's hitting hard. And how is Jenny sleeping at night? Well, apparently, very well, as it is a well-known fact that the MP bought an extremely expensive four-poster bed on her expense account - almost £1,800 of taxpayers' money in total, on the bed, mattress, matching curtains, and home delivery.

So... Keep fighting the fight, good people! Picture and full poem below x

Bedroom tax, here’s the facts

People made homeless

Bedroom tax, just like trash

You can’t ignore us

Bedroom tax, don’t have stacks,

We can’t afford it

Our hearts and homes broken

But you just ignored it

Here is the full poem, it should be read in order of columns (1,2,3...). Making columns on Blogger is an absolute pain, so please forgive the fact the type isn't quite straight here... Enjoy!