When I am an old woman I shall wear purple
With a red hat which doesn't go, and doesn't suit me.
And I shall spend my pension on brandy and summer gloves
And satin sandals, and say we've no money for butter.
I shall sit down on the pavement when I'm tired
And gobble up samples in shops and press alarm bells
And run my stick along the public railings
And make up for the sobriety of my youth.
I shall go out in my slippers in the rain
And pick flowers in other people's gardens
And learn to spit.

You can wear terrible shirts and grow more fat
And eat three pounds of sausages at a go
Or only bread and pickle for a week
And hoard pens and pencils and beermats and things in boxes.

But now we must have clothes that keep us dry
And pay our rent and not swear in the street
And set a good example for the children.
We must have friends to dinner and read the papers.

But maybe I ought to practice a little now?
So people who know me are not too shocked and surprised
When suddenly I am old, and start to wear purple.

  If you were only one inch tall, you'd ride a worm to school.
The teardrop of a crying ant would be your swimming pool.
A crumb of cake would be a feast
And last you seven days at least,
A flea would be a frightening beast
If you were one inch tall.

If you were only one inch tall, you'd walk beneath the door,
And it would take about a month to get down to the store.
A bit of fluff would be your bed,
You'd swing upon a spider's thread,
And wear a thimble on your head
If you were one inch tall.

You'd surf across the kitchen sink upon a stick of gum.
You couldn't hug your mama, you'd just have to hug her thumb.
You'd run from people's feet in fright,
To move a pen would take all night,
(This poem took fourteen years to write--
'Cause I'm just one inch tall).

The most important thing we've learned,
So far as children are concerned,
Is never, NEVER, NEVER let
Them near your television set --
Or better still, just don't install
The idiotic thing at all.
In almost every house we've been,
We've watched them gaping at the screen.
They loll and slop and lounge about,
And stare until their eyes pop out.
(Last week in someone's place we saw
A dozen eyeballs on the floor.)
They sit and stare and stare and sit
Until they're hypnotised by it,
Until they're absolutely drunk
With all that shocking ghastly junk.
Oh yes, we know it keeps them still,
They don't climb out the window sill,
They never fight or kick or punch,
They leave you free to cook the lunch
And wash the dishes in the sink --
But did you ever stop to think,
To wonder just exactly what
This does to your beloved tot?
IT ROTS THE SENSE IN THE HEAD!
IT KILLS IMAGINATION DEAD!
IT CLOGS AND CLUTTERS UP THE MIND!
IT MAKES A CHILD SO DULL AND BLIND
HE CAN NO LONGER UNDERSTAND
A FANTASY, A FAIRYLAND!
HIS BRAIN BECOMES AS SOFT AS CHEESE!
HIS POWERS OF THINKING RUST AND FREEZE!
HE CANNOT THINK -- HE ONLY SEES!
'All right!' you'll cry. 'All right!' you'll say,
'But if we take the set away,
What shall we do to entertain
Our darling children? Please explain!'
We'll answer this by asking you,
'What used the darling ones to do?
'How used they keep themselves contented
Before this monster was invented?'
Have you forgotten? Don't you know?
We'll say it very loud and slow:
THEY ... USED ... TO ... READ! They'd READ and READ,
AND READ and READ, and then proceed
To READ some more. Great Scott! Gadzooks!
One half their lives was reading books!
The nursery shelves held books galore!
Books cluttered up the nursery floor!
And in the bedroom, by the bed,
More books were waiting to be read!
Such wondrous, fine, fantastic tales
Of dragons, gypsies, queens, and whales
And treasure isles, and distant shores
Where smugglers rowed with muffled oars,
And pirates wearing purple pants,
And sailing ships and elephants,
And cannibals crouching 'round the pot,
Stirring away at something hot.
(It smells so good, what can it be?
Good gracious, it's Penelope.)
The younger ones had Beatrix Potter
With Mr. Tod, the dirty rotter,
And Squirrel Nutkin, Pigling Bland,
And Mrs. Tiggy-Winkle and-
Just How The Camel Got His Hump,
And How the Monkey Lost His Rump,
And Mr. Toad, and bless my soul,
There's Mr. Rate and Mr. Mole-
Oh, books, what books they used to know,
Those children living long ago!
So please, oh please, we beg, we pray,
Go throw your TV set away,
And in its place you can install
A lovely bookshelf on the wall.
Then fill the shelves with lots of books,
Ignoring all the dirty looks,
The screams and yells, the bites and kicks,
And children hitting you with sticks-
Fear not, because we promise you
That, in about a week or two
Of having nothing else to do,
They'll now begin to feel the need
Of having something to read.
And once they start -- oh boy, oh boy!
You watch the slowly growing joy
That fills their hearts. They'll grow so keen
They'll wonder what they'd ever seen
In that ridiculous machine,
That nauseating, foul, unclean,
Repulsive television screen!
And later, each and every kid
Will love you more for what you did.

Dear Knife,
Infinite pain
Build up deep inside
I have to let these feelings out
But who can I confide?
Dark silver blade
The only one I trust
The one I turn to
When life becomes too much

Dear Knife,
A babbling brook red and warm
From lies, hate, and betrayal thick and strong
Trickling down my arm
A dirty little secret they call self harm
Dear Knife,
Long black sleeves
To cover my pain
To hide my shame
To cover my grief
And hide my relief
That’s what you did for me
Dear Knife,
I thought you were my friend
Oh how I was wrong
You ruined my life
With a body covered in scars
You beg me to use you
But I now I’m done
Done with the hurting…and disappointing
Done with a dirty little secret they call self harm
But oh beloved knife, I know I bide you gone
I still always think of you
Through the dark rainy nights all so long
I guess I’ll always love you even though you did me wrong
You evil damned little thing…I use to know as self harm

I tell myself, to rise and shine, every morning.
I look at you, wondering Why? every day.
I go to sleep, with tears in my eyes, every night.
I tell myself, to appreciate and smile, every time.

I think of you, and feel sorrow, every morning.
I go to school, knowing you are there, every day.
I see shadows, floating by my eyes, every night.
I tell myself, to forget, I failed, every time.
I wake up, sad and exhausted, every morning.
I look insanely at you, you are with her, every day.
I tell myself, to rest my mind, every night.
I ask myself, who was we? Was it just me?

The day that you left us
You didn’t say good-bye.
God was calling his angel home,
There was no time to ask why.
How we cried when you left
The pain was felt by all.
Memories now is all we have
And your pictures on the wall.
Though I cannot see you,
I know that your still here.
In my memories you will always live,
In my heart you’re always near.
Tears have fallen for you,
Some happy and some sad.
A man that I grew up to love,
A man I called my Grand-Dad.
We miss you very dearly,
You’re missed very much.
You will never be forgotten,
You’re in a child’s touch.

You lie everyday to make it easy
But who is it easy for?
You sulk everyday to resist the pain
But who feels it?
You think it’s me, you said.
But it’s you, it’s you. Don’t forget.
You lied everyday to make it easy
But who was it easy for?
You sulked everyday to resist the pain
But who felt it?
You thought it was me, you said.
But it’s you, it’s you. Don’t forget

Never at all have suspicion
Let clarification be sought
Bring among none any division
Against none make an evil plot
Be honest in your noble mission
For the World’s welfare work a lot
By being to the core sincere
Try your goals without fear
Dry via kindness World’s tear
Politely express what you feel
Heart of no one you must hurt
Always prayer will surely heal
It will wash off soul’s dirt
When before God you kneel
To help you, you make God alert.

1991-2009
Dashed with the history of her life
From 5 year old laughing running in her Sunday school dress
A 10 year old refusing to sit on her daddy’s lap
To a 14 year rebelling, coming home past 12
To that very night that leads to her demise
Grievers and mourners walking up and down
Kept treading until reality began breaking through all around
As they lift the sepulcher
A memory crept across all their souls
Eulogy echoing through the silent constrains
And as of the day the moon never rose
Without bringing the family dreams
Of their daughter, niece, cousin who was once alive
Oh how still she lies
Colors of here soul imprinting in their eyes
Suicidal premonitions murdered her heart
But what she failed to recognize was the permanent pain she’d put in their lives
The ones that loved her… day and night
This is what happens after suicide
You may think you’re alone but just look around
You are loved that’s what I’m told
You are loved that’s what I know
Don’t give in keep fighting each and every day
Maybe someday you will see
How much you are loved
and all that you can truly be

Some days when sorrow grows too large
To hide behind this mask I wear.
Please pretend you do not see.
And please try not to stare.