A Poem a Day (225): Violation

Violation

You weep at their regard,

Turn heads to the wall,

Hide faces in this old dark,

Blind your memories dead.

You don’t want them to see,

And you don’t want their eyes

Grown on stalks penetrating

Your skin, your flesh, your self.

You want them to disappear

For all the things they’ve done.

You want them to perish

And feel no shame in wishing.

These men don’t belong here

And yet they still come in.

There is no end to their need,

Against which you all plead.

You are the canvas, the paper,

The object forced to yield.

So you turn heads to the wall,

Try not to feel anything at all.

Copyright Vickie Johnstone, July 29, 2020

A lockdown song: Sea of Broken Glass

Something different from poems. Here’s one of the songs that my uncle, Billy Johnstone, and I have written during lockdown. He’s behind the melody and sings, while I wrote the lyrics. We recorded it in May. Enjoy! 

“When she breaks she dances in the mirrors of a sea of broken glass…”

Billy Johnstone · Sea Of Broken Glass

Links:

Facebook Website

SoundCloud 

Bandcamp (buy tracks)

A Poem a Day (224): Selfless

Selfless

If you are selfless

Do you offer up the self?

Will it fritter out

Unused, unfit for purpose?

This ego fighting fire,

Is it just troublesome

Or will it guide you out

When you need it most?

And what will it seek,

The self, with all its needs,

Its arrogance to take,

Its desire to prove itself?

If you become selfless

Will it make you happier?

Will you disappear altogether

Or just be less showy?

Copyright Vickie Johnstone, June 28, 2020

A Poem a Day (223): Microphones

This one is about people who spy on other people. And I got to thinking about ‘Stasiland’ by Anna Funder. A extraordinary book about extraordinary people living at a time when privacy and freedoms were stolen by the state, and people were forced to incriminate their friends, colleagues and relatives or face the consequences for disobedience. They lacked the freedoms and right to a private life that we take for granted. Everything you did was watched. Everything you said was listened to. And people just disappeared.

Microphones

Just press the switch to listen,

Place your ear to the glass

And hear what’s said on air –

An announcement to the nation

To caress our wand’ring ears.

A bodiless voice spirals out

On a stream of endless words.

But this is no public accouncement,

It’s a conversation between friends

And you’re vacuuming it up.

You even hit ‘record’ to replay.

It’s a dimlit reminder of the Stasi,

That controlled, frightening state,

Where people spied on family,

Paranoia ran rife and people died.

How are you loving every minute?

All this listening – an addiction

You aren’t even aware of.

Everyone’s life is yours, you think,

And you can’t stop. You won’t stop.

All these voices, other people’s secrets,

Regurgitated morsels of another life.

Meaningless vowels pour out,

But you collect and taste them all.

These invisible people. This invisible world.

Copyright Vickie Johnstone, July 27, 2020