Poem Number 40 - Awaiting - 31/1/1984

Hearts are throbbing while the blood is circulating,

Minds are thoughtfully wondering, as they wait.

Hands are together: Mother, father, son and daughter,

This is the time to hope for the best.

Poem Number 39 - Miracles - 23/1/1984

I’ve never written a poem like this,

To annoy a woman that I’ll miss.

This lovely woman of maturity and certain response,

Is a true woman of love and no nonsense.

I ask myself in true respect,

What can I truly pick on her on dispense,

But I cannot and really will not disaffect,

This woman of her own beauty and self-respect.

Yet, she acts so mediocre in manner,

Childlike she really accepts.

I love her game and true love, is the same,

Who am I to cause the blame?

AI act like the man-in-charge,

Never mistaken for the boy-in-charge.

Yet myself, feel young inside,

And I’m not entitled to a bribe.

If miracles could happen, in honest reality,

Wouldn’t my life end up, 

Oh so happily?

I better shut up and not act like a drip.

Poem Number 38 - Unmotherly Mother - 20/1/1984

May she, who interrupts me,

Be thought of. Unkindly.

May her doors and windows, remain open,

So that buckets of rain will drop down.

Her heart seems to be so small (or is hollow),

Nothing will ever change her attitude, not today or tomorrow.

Let her sunshine become rainfall,

As I don’t really like her at all.

The pressure’s on both of us, never having a word to say,

Just hassles and hassles I get my into everyday

I’m fed up with the nagging,

And this is making my fiancé, very angry.

Tension I have had and if you talk to me, I am tense,

I wish, you used a bit of common sense,

Is it terror and personal destruction, you like?

Well, if this is so, if this is so, you’d better go on a one-way hike!

Piss off, my mother!

Go away and don’t bother!

For you will then suddenly learn,

What I want and need from you.

To the rest of the family,

Who never seem to listen to me.

I am leading a most happy life,

And I don’t care to what you “Bloody-well have to say”.

Golden are the days, that I live with her jot at all,

Distract us completely and you’ll go to hell!

Poem Number 37 - Hatred! - 17/1/1984

Hatred is something that no one really likes,

Especially, when you can feel hatred towards someone else.

I don’t feel guilt, but I’m shrivelled up, inside,

All I seem to want to do is hide within myself.

May her heart shrink and never release,

If she cared so much, just to make me blush.

Day to day, would be so different,

As I can be so tolerant.

Leave me alone! Leave me alone!

As our distance is strengthened,

By further travelling, every day,

My nerves were all gone,

Until I rang you on the phone.

I may be weak according to you,

But I can also come out of the blue,

I’d attack you, by vicious words,

That is harmful and spiteful.

At least, you don’t really know,

That I have gained another mum.

And you have lost your only son.

This is great! I’m having a lot of fun!

Poem Number 36 - Desperation - 16/1/1984

The glow of the sun, beating down,

Onto dense, world population,

The round coolness, of the above sky,

This brings out the relaxation of mankind.

Happier are the rich, that can’t feel the pinch,

The darker the hearts are,

Whose hunger and desperation,

Is forever for-gotten.

Times are hard and lives are shortened,

For the children that we only feel for seldom,

Is it time to help the ones that are in need?

Is it possible, for a child to live a little longer?

Not many of us human beings,

Can call out, so loud,

Like little pockets of thunder storms,

From each and every cloud.

Reach and teach the whole wide world,

Of all our distresses and all our tolls.

Help them, in your own way,

To fulfil another beautiful day.

Once you see the other children running, hastily out of schools,

Amusement parks, the newest movie and of course the coolest of pools,

“Mamma, Mamma can we go today…?”

Says the child, who not so long ago was a little lovely baby.

Housework never seems to be completed,

Momentarily, the kid seems to tire me right down.

I can’t stop work, for a tiny little while,

As the children want to go out for a walk, another mile.

Daddy’s always working, for us poor little hearts,

Earning the money, which doesn’t go that far!

Spending here! Spending there!

No savings anywhere.

Poem Number 35 - Train Sight Seeing - 9/1/1984

Riding on a train begins so empty,

Making me feel very hot and sweaty.

As this trains crosses over the bridge,

It’s a terrific view from the train:

That you’ll see all the watercrafts,

Travelling on this wide blue open sea.

Poem Number 34 - Way Out! - 9/1/1984

It was time. Something was going wrong.

A phone call made to ask us to come, to dinner.

Being cheerful as I usually was, on that next night,

I tried to really make the conversation.

My mother hardly saying a good word to her and me,

She was trying to put us through, a lot of hell.

She wasn’t there, for just a short moment,

So this gave me the chance to go through the cement.

Mother was giving her reasons of being upset,

It was New Year’s Eve and she, was asleep in bed.

Michelle had only been drinking for a short while ago,

And at Mum’s, she wasn’t feeling to bloody very well!
She had to have some rest,

And she wasn’t feeling the very best!

More French, then Czech or Australian friends had attended.

I was all right as I was used to this.

But Michelle was quite bored,

And I felt the same, bored.

With only one Australian couple there,

Who of which were the only ones who were sane.

Because She did not mingle with the crowd,

Because she was too tired to stay up,

Because while asleep, Michelle hit my mother in the face,

There were reasons: mum was very tired that night.

According to my sister (Who has yet, has not been through life),

My conversation was sick and irrelevant to her.

As I cut her with words, like an imaginary knife,

And the topic of marriage was discussed with videos, as well.

I only made a suggestion to her,

About our marriage being videotaped.

Her voice raised up,

Like a thunder of lightening.

I stood up, immediately,

As I could not take ant more!

While side comments were being made,

By a junior professor, Anne-Marie.

Her hand, pointing only in one direction, all the time,

As we, ourselves, knew which way was the “Way Out!”