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Contents
1:30 a.m..........................................................................................................................1
1950's Child ...................................................................................................................2
A September Morning....................................................................................................4
A Sort of Haiku..............................................................................................................5
A Special Day ................................................................................................................6
About Being Different ...................................................................................................7
Alone In The Night ........................................................................................................8
Another Life, Another Day ............................................................................................9
Change .........................................................................................................................10
Children – Don't You Just Love Them? ......................................................................11
Do the Psyche Shuffle..................................................................................................13
Do You Know Who It Is Yet? .....................................................................................14
Eric...............................................................................................................................15
If I Could......................................................................................................................16
In The Arms of the Dragon..........................................................................................17
Inspired by Fear Factory ..............................................................................................18
It's A Wonderful Day...................................................................................................19
It's Just a Word.............................................................................................................20
It's Life Jim, But Not as You Know It!........................................................................21
Life Doesn't Have To Be Perfect .................................................................................22
Molly............................................................................................................................23
Momma Said................................................................................................................24
Moonlight.....................................................................................................................25
Mr Perfect ....................................................................................................................26
Nervous Anxiety ..........................................................................................................27
One Day at a Time .......................................................................................................28
One of Life's Square Pegs ............................................................................................30
Reasons for Being Different ........................................................................................31
Reply to the Death Zone ..............................................................................................32
Shit Happens ................................................................................................................33
Socially Acceptable .....................................................................................................34
That Hidden Something ...............................................................................................36
The Death Zone............................................................................................................37
The Long Journey ........................................................................................................38
The Menstrualite ..........................................................................................................41
The Thrill Of It All ......................................................................................................42
The Woman Down the Well ........................................................................................43
Try to Accept ...............................................................................................................45
Voices in my Head.......................................................................................................46
Waiting.........................................................................................................................47
Watching ......................................................................................................................48
Whales Playtime ..........................................................................................................50
What's The Point? ........................................................................................................51
Why? ............................................................................................................................52
Ziggy the Magnificent..................................................................................................53
A few brief words

1:30 a.m.
I’m here again
1:30 a.m. and wide-awake,
The brain racing on
And the body not really tired.
My thoughts are wide and various,
But I can indulge in my
Favourite fantasy of
‘I am an interesting being,
And can save the world’,
Which makes my brain
Run even faster.

How is it that in the dead of night:


Problems are resolved,
Telephone calls are not put off,
Inventions are invented,
And a list of tomorrow’s tasks
Leaps enthusiastically into the brain
Pinioning the thinker to a day of
Endless and widely varied activity.

Not a bad thing one might think.


But, I know from experience
How our cat feels,
When she chases her tail
And can’t catch it.
My tail might be vestigial
But it’s got the capacity
To make me run round in circles.
Maybe tonight I’ll be awake all night.
If I am how will I cope?

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Lesley Chambers

1950's Child

Everything clean and neat:


Plain simple furnishings,
No colour co-ordination.
Plenty make do and mend.
Seersucker tablecloth
Provides the backdrop for
Tureens and gravy boats,
Carving knife and water jug,
For the Sunday Lunchtime Roast.
Mother in the tiny kitchen listening to the Archers
Father in the garden or reading the paper
Two young boys chase round the garden,
Their sensible shorts a tribute
To Mother’s Housewife Skills.

Mother calls from the kitchen


And her eager family troop in from the garden
To wash hands and set the table.
Father takes great pride in sharpening the carving knife.
The carving and serving falls to him.
Mother fusses in, with the Yorkshire pudding.
Plenty of onion gravy, washes over each little castle
Quiet and mysterious sit the vegetable tureens
Round and fat and handled, too hot to touch
The garden veg are flourishing. Peas and beans and carrots,
All to pod and scrape and cut, parings go for compost.
Garden mint is getting wild, visited by felines.
Boil the leaves in with the spuds. No one will ever notice.

Discarded in the kitchen the Garment of Servitude


Aprons are not approved of at the Family Mealtime.
Children’s rosy cheeks seek for the approval
Of the Father Figure, guarded in his praise.
Colin calls his mother Mum. Roger still says Mummy.
Both have her attention, certain of her love.
“May I have some water please, Mummy,” pipes the youngest, Roger.
Promoted to glass this week, Daddy will be pleased.
Roger feels a little pang after the water triumph
Vegetables need to be handed out by Mummy
Little fingers easily burn, want to be like Daddy.
Chase the potato round the plate, veggies form and army
“Eat your beans up, Colin, please, if you want some pudding.”

In comes the stripy jug, known as Mr. Custard.


Whose contents emerge like a pyroclastic flow.
Gone are the trowel jokes or the hasty sieving.

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A few brief words

“What goes with custard, Mum,” asks Colin the Curious.


“Think back to yesterday, then answer the question.”
Yesterday is years away, gone and now forgotten.
Hazy memories, country walk, oh yes, picking blackberries!
Enamel dish like Mother used pressed in to service.
Pastry leaves round the hole for steam, the edge a mass of crinkles.
First portion takes a dive, summer fruits are soggy
Mother takes the battered piece, perfect slice for Father.
Don’t mind the floppy pastry.
Spoons clatter in pudding dish, followed by a scraping.
“You may leave the table boys.” Permission comes from father.
Out in the garden again, too full now for chasing,
Stand, and watch the clouds go by coloured by a watery sun.

Many summers came and went for Colin and for Roger.
Fathers both – though different from their father.
Colin stands by the back door, listening for the noises.
That tells him the kids are here for their Sunday’s access visit.
Roger eats his hotel lunch, then goes to ring his family
Back in England – achingly far, just another Sunday.
Nothing now seems clean and neat.
Nothing plain and simple:
Co-ordinated furnishings,
Un co-ordinated living.

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Lesley Chambers

A September Morning
The peace and calm of early morning
Is with us again now.
At 6:00 all was dark, still and slightly eerie.
As I passed out to air the cat,
The darkness, seemed like a living presence,
Not really menacing, but watchful, aware.

Now the sky is light.


He is arrayed in his morning finery
Of pearlescent blue,
Which gives a pleasurable feeling
To the spirit, and looks well to lighten the day.

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A few brief words

A Sort of Haiku
A skein of geese flew
Over the blazing sky in
A honk of sound.

The rowan waved his


Arms to the passing birds, who
Aim for the sky.

The old man by the


Fence breathed in the chilly air
Beckoned by sound.

In cool and dark the


Brock snuffed the change in the air,
Onward they flew.

The tide was at ebb,


When a rind of moon, lit up
The passers by.

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Lesley Chambers

A Special Day
Something is pulling me.
And I am powerless to stop it.
The churning of my stomach,
And the chattering in my head,
Announce that today is going to be
A Special Day.

I dress with care in red.


Red as the slaughtered seal,
Red as the Blood of Christ,
The food I eat must be red.
My workman’s bag glistens redly.

The waiting is over.


I walk to the park
And see The One.
Fire is the Breath of Life.
And here the flame is in danger.

I must act, but carefully.


I must not fail.
My plan runs right.
She makes for the secret pool,
Where the koi carp live.

I never cease to wonder


At the crass stupidity
Of mere humanity.
Can they not see I am immune
To their blandishments?
I have a task to accomplish,
A furnace to feed.

I stand aloof, a statue.


She must not hear the voices,
Or the urgent pounding of my heart.
The water beckons.
My time approaches.
Now will the everlasting fire be fed.

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A few brief words

About Being Different


How do you feel, I am asked.
What is it that started this thing?
It’s been with me too long,
For me to be able to say anything
About the way I feel deep inside,
Where all the bad thoughts hide and gather
There, to poison my system
With their incessant chattering.
Deep inside me is a well,
A well of indescribable emptiness and longing,
Full of fear and jealousy and anger
At myself, for the lost chances,
For the ‘should have’s, and the ought to’s’.
And the ‘I don’t know what else’
Is hiding in there,
Waiting to come out.
I am alone in this world
There is no one but me
To help myself,
When the pain gets too much to bear,
The emotional pain I suffer,
Seeing people the wrong way,
Misunderstanding the way someone looks
Or says something,
Takes a lot of time and practice.

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Lesley Chambers

Alone In The Night


On a still, black, lonely night
I sit here again awake.
Sleep, a distant will o’ the wisp,
Tempting me with gossamer wings,
Only to whisk away again, leaving me unsatisfied
With his flighty embrace.

I don’t feel resentful, just dopey,


Yet unable to settle.
My mind isn’t racing, just up and about,
When it should be curled up
In its little nest like a good little brain.

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A few brief words

Another Life, Another Day


Out in the garden the birds are calling
In thankfulness for a brand dew day.
The shadows of the night have been replaced
By the first rays of an ebullient sun.
Up in the bedroom all is in darkness
Another harrowing night has given way
To another pain-filled, desperate day.
A grey face pulls back the curtains,
Turning to force a smile for the
Graven yellow figure still aware
That the pain in the room belongs to him.

Breathing now begins to falter,


The gasp and rattle that signals the end.
She sits there and looks at the husk
That was once so animated
When the doorbell reminds her
Outside there are living people and
Life will go on.
She hurries downstairs.

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Lesley Chambers

Change
Baby bawling in your pram
Out in the garden, airing in the shade
She’s soon a little girl, Daddy’s Joy
Proudly balanced behind Dad
As he pedals up the path on your trike.

First day at school: life’s a mystery


Numbers belong to a secret society
Schooldays stretch across the years
Playground fights, sick in the classroom
Awkward, podgy, shy and clever.

Time to shed the puppy fat.


Time to shine, to be a wanton.
Down the disco: vodka and French kissing.
Friday morning maths a nightmare.

Boyfriend turns to husband overnight.


Romantic love and domestic drudgery,
Baby bawling in your pram
Out in the garden, amid the nappies.

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A few brief words

Children – Don't You Just Love Them?

“Children should be seen, not heard,”


Goes the Victorian credo.
And how many times
Have we all wished for that.

“Teenagers are an alien race,”


Goes the anguished cry.
And a million mums
Would agree with that.

The idea that a child


Is a perfect being
A happy smile,
And a rosy glow –

Then the child is born


And the dream is shattered
By the broken nights
And the sleep-starved days.

This is not a doll


Or a fashion accessory.
It’s a human being
In an unfinished state.

Being a Mum or a Dad


Is a life investment.
If you want some love
Then you've got to care.

Listen to your kids


And you’ll grow together
On your journey through life
Look through children’s eyes.

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Lesley Chambers

Day 7 Blues (Or Poor Me)

Why do I have to be me?


Why can’t I be the clever one,
The brainy one,
The one I’d like to be?

I’d like to be the one


Who says the words:
The clever witty things.
But I end up just tongue-tied,
And feeling very stupid.
Poor Spot has some strange ideas
Of a rosy, glamorous world
And then other people come in
And shit on my soufflé.

I’m not a social animal,


However hard I try.
Perhaps that’s half the trouble.
But why, oh why, oh why
Am I the one
Who always ends up crying?

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A few brief words

Do the Psyche Shuffle


Sing to the tune of 'Do the Wall Street Shuffle'

Do the psyche shuffle


Do the tablet guzzle
See the facial rictus
So the doctor tricked us.

You need a vet


You’re feeling shit
And you wannam get better
You try to fit
You do the bit
And you end up a nutter, psycho

You gotta keep cool in TREATMENT

You gotta keep cool in TREATMENT


When your brain starts to go
Ward staff ain’t got time for no fun
You’ll end up in Section
With long sleeves on your jacket
They plead with you
“Dearie, just you take the pill
‘Cause you ain’t standing still.”

DOING THE...
DOING THE
Oh tricksy fool
Will your tablets make me better?
Are you waiting for the hour
When you can zap me
‘Cause you’re bad enough.

Do the psyche shuffle


Let your brain cells bustle
You won’t know your mother
You could eat your brother.

DOING THE...
DOING THE...
You scream and shout.
You feel and feel
‘Cause you’re living on instinct.
You get the shakes. You’re shuddering
And you know there’s no winning
IN TREATMENT.

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Lesley Chambers

Do You Know Who It Is Yet?


Who:
Can make a problem disappear just by smiling at it?
Has the patience of a crocodile?
Can smooth away anger and fear?
Can bring out the best in a person?
Thinks about those who are ill or in need?
Will always go the extra mile?
Has antennae sharper than My Favourite Martian?
Will always laugh at your joke?
Can see the other side to the story?
Can make you feel extra special?
Is it you want to tell first?
Else do you know who has a personalised rainbow?
Can walk into a room with “Hello my lovely” without getting a punch?
Has twinkling eyes to light up your day?
Can massage away those computer-crunched shoulders?
Can light up a room with love?
Is it that understands?

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A few brief words

Eric
I’m married to a shift worker
And it’s stinky.
It’s enough to make an angel
Spit and swear.

I’m married to a shift worker


And it’s lonely.
I go to bed some nights
With my Teddy Bear.

I’m married to a shift worker


And he’s tired.
It’s hard for him
With all these changing shifts.

I’m married to shift worker


And he’s cranky.
He’s got to give his best
For his own peace of mind.

I’m married to a shift worker


And it’s lovely
To be together
When no one else is here.

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Lesley Chambers

If I Could

If I should own a magic wand


I know what I should do:
I’d wave it over those I love
But especially me and you.

If the secret charm of making


Was known to only me
I’d weave about a magic mist
To comfort thee and me

If I should find a secret stone


With powers deep and fey:
I’d carry it to you my dear
Your cares to draw away.

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A few brief words

In The Arms of the Dragon


I’m here again, the dragon’s cave
He’s wrapped his leathery wings
About me
In a deadly embrace

His putrid breath hangs in the air


His thoughts insinuate themselves
Into my brain
How else could I think such deathly thoughts
About myself?

I had vowed not to enter


The dark cave again.
I thought the elixir
A potent charm.

The dragon has me in his grasp.


His words are poison.
He knows the words.
How can I resist him?

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Lesley Chambers

Inspired by Fear Factory


I am the one true spirit
Of chaos and despair.
I am the accursed one.
I am the all-powerful one.
I am the one who answers no prayers,
Who is the bringer of nightmares.
My name is never spoken.
I live in mortal minds.
I am the jealousy, the anger...
I am the cowardice, the shame...
My spirit lives on through the age.
Long Live The Age of Chaos.

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A few brief words

It's A Wonderful Day


How wonderful the world is
On a day like today.
I’ve got the pitter-patter
And the anxious trembly fingers,
Of the postillions, who ride
My roller coaster brain.

I have the answers.


I feel the feelings.
I smell the smells.
I’m more attuned to life,
More of an animal.

How lovely to be free!


What fun to say those things!
How good it feels to laugh!
I can do it!
I’m a newborn creature.

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Lesley Chambers

It's Just a Word


The word abuse
Seems to me a much
Misunderstood term.
We know it’s a bad thing
But hey, these things happen.

There are so many forms


Of abuse
Abuse of the individual
Abuse of power
Abuse of trust
The list goes on.

From the other side its clearer.


To have been abused
Means a part of you has died.
You put your faith in someone else
And your faith has been violated.

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A few brief words

It's Life Jim, But Not as You Know It!


Do you go out on a Friday
To get totally legless?
Well that’s OK
‘Cause you don’t talk to yourself in the supermarket.

Do you drop an E at the club


And enjoy the feeling of universal love?
You’re quite normal in that
It’s talking to god that’s freaky.

Do you beat your wife


And shout at the children?
Perfectly acceptable, of course
So long as no one ‘told’ you to do it.

Do you wake up in the morning


Feeling like you’re set in concrete
And struggle to work out
How to make your breakfast?

The life of the mentally ill


Is like being in a vacuum.
No one can get in to you.
And you’re too damn scared to go out.

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Lesley Chambers

Life Doesn't Have To Be Perfect


I don’t remember living
In a cupboard under the stairs,
Or growing up in a forest
Surrounded by friendly bears.
So how come I feel so weird?

I find it hard to make small talk


I always want to be the best.
Maybe I should go public
And write LOONEY LEZ on my vest.
It’s just that I feel so weird

Asking for help is something


That doesn’t come easy for me.
I revel in negative thinking
It’s hard just to say “wait and see.”
Why do I feel so weird?

Exam results must be perfect,


Or failure’s the name of the game.
Family meals no less than a triumph,
Are more than a reason for blame.
It’s no good. I still feel weird.

Life doesn’t have instructions,


Or a map to show you the way.
No one will give you a medal,
For beating yourself up every day.
Life doesn’t have to be prefect.

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A few brief words

Molly

On the grass in the sunshine,


She lazed on the lawn,
In the languid summer.

All around her flowers of different colours


Acted as a backdrop, a mere prop,
Designed to display to the full
The desirable form of the dusky maiden.

Ageless and wise,


Self assured in her dark beauty,
And totally at ease
In front of the camera.

With one swift glance,


She could get the measure of the man.
And would either react with haughty disdain
For a person with no soul or understanding,
Or a genteel kindness for trusted acquaintances,
And wholehearted passion for her lovers.

She came to us unloved and unwanted,


She has repaid our care a thousand-fold
With little looks and gestures.
Molly is indeed a very splendid cat!

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Lesley Chambers

Momma Said
We didn’t fall into each other’s arms
With a cascade of golden stars
And a twittering of bluebirds.
We didn’t really notice one another.
And momma said the love would grow.
Maybe he’d arrived from a lonely far-off planet.
Maybe I was tired of waiting around.
The early days were hard for us:
Too many people too little time to think.
And momma said the love would grow.
Time slowly passed. My life had changed.
I was now his alone, it seemed.
He wanted me near him every hour.
I felt trapped and desperate by his demands.
And momma said the love would grow.
The love I expected to come welling up,
Was locked up tight inside.
“I can’t go on. This feels so wrong,”
I told my Mum one day.
And momma said the love would grow.
We struggled through the worst of times.
We made it through the days.
We bound ourselves together for all time.
Our mutual jokes were feeble but we were feeling love.
And momma said the love would grow.
The last few years have galloped by
Since we struggled through the days.
My little blond haired boy is now a man.
Unlike, and yet alike, we share a bond of love.
And momma said the love would grow.

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A few brief words

Moonlight
Moonlight is the time
To catch yourself a vampire,
Who will be the prey?

When clouds scud over the


Storm-wracked moon be you aware,
That danger is near.

Hiding in the trees,


Evil spirits bide their time
Silent, patient, dry.

Hungry mouths must feed


When the call of nighttime fear
Leads the boy astray.

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Lesley Chambers

Mr Perfect

Morning again,
Why does it have
To come around
So quickly?

Another ten minutes


I tell myself
As I hide
Under the covers.

Do other people
Feel like this?
They’re better than me.
They, disguise it.

Look around:
Smiling faces, confident
Joking, teasing one another,
Not me.

Not for me:


The gangs of friends...
The girly talk...
The sleep parties...

Life goes on
Around me, yet
Without me. I’m always
The outsider.

Home time:
Whether in a group, or
By myself,
I’m alone.

Look at the houses,


No sign here.
All the boxes look alike
From the outside.

The corner...
The house...
The cloud...
He’s there.

My heart pounds
I can’t face it.
I have to,
DAD.

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A few brief words

Nervous Anxiety
Check the house
From top to bottom.
Wash the windows.
Clean the oven.

Check the recipe books.


For all that’s difficult,
Can’t make this
Seem too easy.

Check the cat


For rampant fleas.
Persuade teenage son:
“Please don’t wear that grungy T-shirt”

Dig out the best


Crockery and glasses.
That kitchen cupboard isn’t clean,
Don’t open it then. Make sure it’s hidden.

Is there a reason for the tension?


Have we got the house for sale?
Are we on the television?
None of these – even worse
The In Laws are coming to call!

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Lesley Chambers

One Day at a Time


Is this the end or the beginning?
I’ve taken the first step. And I’m so full of fear.
The whole purpose of my life has been washed away
Down the sink,
Along with the contents of various bottles
Apart from the one I’m keeping for emergencies.

I know I said I’d got rid of them all.


But, hell, Rome wasn’t built in a day.
My life has to change so much
I don’t know how I’m going to cope.

It has been part of my life for so long.


A couple of cups of coffee and a fag in the morning
Just to get me going,
And then a swift nip of something clear.
I like to go into work feeling sharp.
And a little drink of something gives me the edge.

My job is stressful I need to relax.


So I have the odd couple at lunchtime.
But then, so does everyone else.
It’s not as if my work will suffer,
I know I can handle the contents of the hip flask.
Over the course of the day, that’s nothing.

But the bastards had it in for me.


Seem to think I mismanaged a couple of cases.
So now I’m on indefinite sick leave.
How is that going to help me?
I need to work. I need the buzz.
Sitting at home makes me nervous.

I’ve come to dread the morning most


Sitting here waiting for the postman.
I can feel my stomach rise to my throat.
And my throat feels gripped by bands of steel.
It’s the credit card bill that finally caught me.
I should have been more careful.
I usually get there first and dispose of the evidence.
But she found it on the table after I’d left.
I can still remember the sick fear I felt,
After she slammed down the phone.
I’ve got a problem, it seems – and it’s all mine.

The doctor gave me antidepressants.

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A few brief words

And he told me I’d probably drink again.


That’s not what I want to hear.
I wanted him to say: take these and you’ll feel better.
All your problems will float away.
Your wife won’t despise you. And your children won’t fear you.
And you really are a jolly good chap.

From where I sit there seems little to live for.


I can’t hold cigarette or hold pen.
I feel as if someone is looking over my shoulder.
And the door of the Iron Maiden is slamming shut.
I’ve been told to take it one day at a time.
But the elastic seconds stretch over the day,
Filling each waking moment with fear and regret.

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Lesley Chambers

One of Life's Square Pegs


There’s a feeling lived inside me.
And it’s bothered me for years.
The kind of thing you just don’t admit.
I’m not a secret drinker and I don’t crave brillo pads.
But there’s this part of me that didn’t seem to fit.

I’ve lived my life through example,


By watching other people
And seeing that they seemed to do it better.
They don’t bother about perfection or what the others think.
They don’t need to do it strictly by the letter.

I’m breaking out.


The steel bands have bound me long enough.
My emotions are much deeper. I see in vivid colour.
I live by what feels right for me, not them.
I care deeply for the underdog.
I understand animals and children.
And I know that I am
One of life’s
Square pegs.

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A few brief words

Reasons for Being Different


It’s good sometimes to be odd
They may call me funny old sod
When they hide up the ladder
For fear I’ll go madder
When I walk down the road with my hood.

I’ve always had an inkling


That there was something wrong.
I squeeze the toothpaste back in the tube.

It’s a funny old world that we live in


Life is like a box of chocolates. And I
Always get stuck
With the bloody nuts.
How do you get bloody nuts?
Trap them in a mangle of course.

I’m the one who walks on the wall


And gets trapped in the privet hedge
I’m the one who takes her clothes off
And runs down the street shouting NEEE

I like three E’s upon my knee


I balance them there with extreme glee
If they should fall upon the ground
They are picked up by my faithful hound SPOT.

Depression is a wonderful thing


It balances you upon a string.
You hang on there
By a wing and a prayer.
And it bloody well hurts
When you fall.

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Lesley Chambers

Reply to the Death Zone


He went about his life
This brave Lad.
And yea, he struggled long.

His mind was full of strife


Poor Dear Lad.
And feelings came out wrong.

He walked in to the zone


Our Strong Lad.
His life was now in doubt.

His thoughts were not his own,


Our Torn Lad.
Would he ever make it out?

There came one fateful day


Dear Bold Lad.
When things came to a head.

His mind with him did stay,


Brave Lad.
Black days for him are DEAD.

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A few brief words

Shit Happens
We live in a strange and unusual world.
And as humans we strive to control
Our Surroundings.
We make ourselves miserable,
By continually trying to impose our will
On the events that take place around us.

Our journey through life


Can be like walking through a maze
Wearing a blindfold and earplugs
What else, is there to feel in such a situation,
BUT FEAR?

Cast off the shackles of rigid thought.


The brain is a powerful tool.
And, like the rest of your body,
USE IT OR LOSE IT.

As you go about your life


Take pleasure in simple things.
Learn to listen to your body.
And be prepared to accept a new direction.
I KNOW I HAVE.

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Lesley Chambers

Socially Acceptable
“How are you today?”
“I’m fine and you?”
This is the socially acceptable mantra
We all say this,
Whether our hearts are breaking
Through some love affair gone wrong
Or we’ve just heard we have
Only three months more to live.

No one wants to hear


The honest truth.
I’m feeling so bad I can hardly stand.
My youngest daughter was charged
With attacking a pensioner.
The cat has leukaemia.
My mother has dementia.
And my husband has gambled
Away our life savings.

Maybe we don’t know


How to talk to one another any more.
Wood panel fencing marks out
The boundaries between semis.
Children eat in their bedrooms
And text message their friends.
Mothers rush home from work
And dig in the freezer for tea.

Don’t we know how to talk


To one another any more?
The bus stop conversations
Are few and far between.
If you must queue, don’t talk
To your neighbour.
Why is this?
Are we all so afraid of attackers?
Or maybe it’s the mobile phone
Clamped to the ear, which prevents
Outside interference.

Maybe we don’t need to talk


To one another any more.
You can make new friends
Over the Internet,
Or watch reality TV,
To see what you are missing.

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A few brief words

Kids have computer games. And we all watch SKY TV,


Don’t we?

How can we live


Such a meaningless existence?
Before you know it,
Books will be rare objects,
Cookery and sewing, long dead skills.
We are all the slaves of progress.
“How are you today?”
“I’m fine and you?”

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Lesley Chambers

That Hidden Something


There’s something about
A crocodile
Which fills me with frozen dread.
It’s not when they’re
Eating buffalo.
It’s when they are under my bed.

For as long as I can remember,


These reptiles
Have laid there in patient wait.
I hoped that when I got married,
I would be
Free of my dreadful fate.

But terrors don’t work like that,


Do they.
They lie in the back of your mind.
And leap out on you
Unexpected,
When you thought you had left them behind.

In my youth the fear was


So astounding.
I’d leap at the bed from the door.
I did this once to my horror.
And the bed leg fell to the floor

Now I approach my nighttime nest


More calmly.
But I listen for the snapping of jaws.
It’s a good thing we don’t have lino.
Or I’d hear nails click on the floor.

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A few brief words

The Death Zone


“It’s dark in here and I can’t seem to breathe.”
I heard the new boy say.
“There’s a maggot crawling in my heart
And it’s taken the joy away.
My limbs are heavy and tremulous
And I hear dark feelings in my soul
Which spill out of my mouth
Willing me to destroy, to demoralize,
To negate hope and love.
Is this me who says the words?
Or am I an empty shell,
A creature of an evil puppet master?”
I smiled and walked away from him.
And then I turned to say:
“You have entered the Death Zone.
And while you remain,
Your life is ebbing away.”

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Lesley Chambers

The Long Journey


The world was younger then.
The sun shone more brightly,
As all good men gathered in the harvest,
Before the first chill of Autumn,
Heralded in the colding days,
When seas froze over.

How many of us set off, when


We travelled the roads together,
Each bringing with us a gift –
A gift to bestow on Mankind
In the days when the world was young.

We travelled light, our needs were few.


We had no need of food or shelter.
And we covered ourselves
In the simplest fashion:
All but one.

Marchmain, he was called.


He was the colourful one.
With his bright yellow stockings
And his jerkin red or orange,
A cloak of scarlet hung jauntily
Over his slender shoulders.

But his eyes stay with me always:


A smoky violet hue with thick black lashes.
And around his eyes the crinkles,
Telltale signs of merriment on the way.
He sounded on the brink of laughter,
And it was he who turned the harsh word
Into a well-known jest, with a turn
Of his head or a verse of a song.
There was always a song.

The sound of music and laughter,


Drew him to the place that night.
Many miles we travelled
Music and merriment could end the day.

The room: a cavern, dark and smoky,


Candles in the corners the light from the fires.
In a corner we threw our gear,
And cast ourselves on the benches,
While one of us called for some ale.

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A few brief words

Young she was, and dark, yet shapely,


Her gown cut low, her head held high.
“How may I serve you, my young lovely?”
As she placed herself astride, our Marchmain,
He caught her round the waist,
And swung them both upwards as he gained his feet.

“You’re but a maid and a pretty one too,”


Laughed the cheery Marchmain,
With the girl in his arms
“A maid no longer, to Hell with thee!”

She reached to her waist


Where hung a scabbard unseen, unexpected.
A deft flick of the wrist and the blade sang out
Deep into the throat of that merry man.
Purple was the blood that burst out then
In a warm in a dark red cloud.

We each received our share of his lifeblood


Each frozen in horror, rooted to the ground.
The maid sprang from the stricken man
And fled like an unholy spirit,
Never to be seen again.
Laughter was gone from us.

Many times over


The world we travelled
Still with our gifts
For the bright young world.
But the gifts that we had
Were not worth all the travel.
Or the heartache and loss
All the friends called away.

Slowly, but slowly our numbers diminished


Some stayed in the world of men,
To live among them and learn their customs.
To marry their women and father their young.
One or two met the same fate as Marchmain.
Innocent and full of good intention
They went to their deaths like lambs to the slaughter.
A few there were who abandoned the cause
And left the world for good,
Returning whence they came.

It lies with me to bestow my gift


As I have always done down the ages.

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Lesley Chambers

Not many smile and wave,


When they see me approach.
There are those who say I do not exist.
I walk where I please and my gift goes with me,
Sometimes an unwelcome gift, cursed with its passing
Sometimes a longed for gift, slow in its calling.
I have acquired different names on my travels.
But all of them mean the same.
All men know their time on earth is brief.
And it is my gift to man to ease their burden.

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A few brief words

The Menstrualite
To the Tune of The Israelite by Desmond Dekker

Get up in the morning,


Tits feelings bloated,
And there’s a terrible pain in my head.
OH, OH,
THE MENSTRUALITE!

Man and the kids


They pack up and a leave me.
“Darlin’”, he said, “I was far too nasty.”
OH, OH,
THE MENSTRUALITE!

Knickers are bloody.


Tampons are gone.
I don’t want to end up
Padded up all my life.
OH, OH,
THE MENSTRUALITE!

After the flood,


There must be the cramp.
If I catch you making fun,
I’ll tear off your arm.
OH, OH,
THE MENSTRUALITE!

You gotta get up in the morning,


Hot wet and sweaty
And with a dirty red mark on the bed.
OH, OH,
THE MENSTRUALITE!

Man and the kids


They say I’m in the change now.
“Darlin’, you need that, there HRT (hee).”
OH, OH,
THE MENSTRUALITE!

Look, after thirty years


There must be a prize
If the Toxic Shock don’t get me
I’ll live till I dies.
OH, OH,
THE MENSTRUALITE!

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Lesley Chambers

The Thrill Of It All


Get up feeling as if you’ve crossed ten time zones,
And look at the trail of devastation left from last night.
The room needs tidying, the cats demand to be fed.
And the trek to the kitchen feels like eternity.

Mission control has gone AWOL again.


So parts of the body are left to fend for themselves.
Objects leap out and trip and walls nudge as you stagger past
Into the once known territory where meals are prepared.

From the kitchen window the summer garden should look lovely.
But the colours are dim today and the lawn gapes its threat.
Stay inside the... but leave the door open... feel the air...
Let the sounds of other people’s lives filter through to stab the heart.

The piles ironing glares out accusingly, the redundant iron sobs.
In the cupboard the vacuum vibrates with indignation.
How many days since it was out and about?
The house is a prison of self-imposed torment.

Better the devil you know than the horrors outside,


Whose forms are many and various, the hideous music...
The interminable queue... getting lost in the shop...
And the Arch demon of all: Bewildered Condescension.

So you plod through the day with rewards and rests,


With distractions and diversions and diverse alarums.
And you try to de-rail the engine of your thoughts
From the railroad of self-destruction.

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A few brief words

The Woman Down the Well


When I was a little girl,
People talked about
The-Woman-Down-The-Well.

How long had she been there?


Her name was a joke,
The-Woman-Down-The-Well.

She came out at night


When all was deathly quiet,
The-Woman-Down-The-Well.

No one ever spoke to her,


Or passed the time of day with
The-Woman-Down-The-Well.

Her hair was long and matted,


Her stare forlorn and bleak,
The-Woman-Down-The-Well.

The years went by,


Went by without
The-Woman-Down-The-Well.

My life was jagged-edges.


My thoughts were black tinged grey.
The-Woman-Down-The-Well.

No friends, no one to love me.


I lacked the social skill.
The-Woman-Down-The-Well.

The lack of understanding,


The half-imagined slight...
The-Woman-Down-The-Well.

I took to nighttime roaming,


Seeking out my hidden fear.
The-Woman-Down-The-Well.

A dark shape overtook me,


And stood to bar my way.
The-Woman-Down-The-Well.

“You came at last,

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Lesley Chambers

Long called I you,” moaned


The-Woman-Down-The-Well.

“My time on earth is over


My realm I leave to you,” shrieked
The-Woman-Down-The-Well.

Frail arms reached out,


I sank in to the void
The-Woman-Down-The-Well.

My home is now my castle,


I am the mistress here,
The-Woman-Down-The-Well.

Now danger is forgotten.


Sunlight looks away from
The-Woman-Down-The-Well.

The dark is my dominion.


Light thoughts and love, are gone.
The-
Woman-
Down-
The-
Well.

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A few brief words

Try to Accept

I’m the world’s worst Manic Depressive.


I can’t even get that right.
I go around trying to be reasonable.
While inside me two dragons fight.

I’m afraid to show my emotions,


I’m not sure I even know how.
I misread the signals of others.
I’m labelled a miserable cow.

I’ve tried to be part of the rat race


And it fits me like Granddad’s old suit.
I can’t quite do up the jacket.
I have to admit, I’m a fruit.

There’s so much about life in general


That doesn’t agree with my frame.
I’ve thought of moving to other spots,
Or even of changing my name.

I feel I’ve been thrown down a Black Hole.


I’m stranded in a dark silent well.
The further I stray from the portal,
The surer I am this is hell.

When I am surrounded by nature


I feel I can be at my ease.
I’m not like the others. Let’s face it:
I’ll do as I damned well please.

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Lesley Chambers

Voices in my Head
Voices in my head
Can’t get my sleep.
Voices in my head
Make me weep.

Movements in the night...


I’m so scared.
Nothing’s going right.
I’m unprepared.

Make it go away,
I want to say.
Can’t keep up the fight
Another day.

Something’s got to change.


I know that now.
My mind must re-arrange.
But how... but how...

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A few brief words

Waiting

Waiting in the waiting room,


Waiting to see the doctor.
Seconds drag by endlessly.
When will it be my turn?

People sit by people.


Each one in their own head.
Don’t talk to your neighbour.
Not if you can help it.

See someone you know there.


How are you? I’m very well.
What you doing here then?
That could have been, my turn.

Young mums bring in pushchairs,


Not safe to leave outside these days
Toddlers charging round and round,
Or play with something noisy.

Frail old lady sits down.


Elderly lady fusses round.
Note the age difference. Yes of course.
That must be the daughter.

Been here much too long, now.


Patience wearing very thin.
I’m watching more than reading.
Safe behind my paperback.

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Lesley Chambers

Watching
Is it me
Am I irredeemably nosey,
Or do other people
Feel an overwhelming desire
To eagerly peer into the hole
The workmen are digging
Just to see.

Maybe it’s the feeling


That other lives are more interesting
Which draws me to look in
At lighted windows,
To catch a glimpse of
Their house, their life.

The conversation overheard


On a bus or in a café,
Always seems so interesting.
For a moment I am part
Of another world,
Though still apart.

The threads of life weave together


As you sit in the waiting room.
And surreptitiously watch and listen
To how other people’s lives
Are mingled with your own.

Going for a walk in the fields


A family of foxes
Suddenly melts in to the foreground.
And I stand there hardly breathing.
In the hope I haven’t been noticed.
I have of course,
And there we stand
Watching each other.

But who else has noticed this moment?


The woman pulling on the bedroom curtains?
The rabbit at the other end of the field?
The worms under my feet?
Each one interested for their own reasons.

We are all obsessed with watching:


The security cameras in a shop,
The speed cameras in the street,

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A few brief words

The hidden cameras in pedestrian areas,


All there to watch.

I am not alone, then,


In my interest with other lives,
We watch television,
Go to the cinema, the theatre,
Go to the zoo,
All to catch a furtive glance
Of other people, living other lives.

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Lesley Chambers

Whales Playtime
Beyond the edge of the ocean
Out there in the mighty deep
There’s a deep tarumbulous rumble
That says there’s a whale asleep.
They stand on their heads when it’s snooze time,
After blowing a jubilant spout.
They dive to the depths of the blue slime.
And giggle while bubbles rush out.

In the sponteriferous forenoon


Is the time when the whales like to dance.
They don’t do the Beguine or the Samba.
You could call it the cetaceous prance.
With seventeen whales in a circle,
They form a round ring head to tail
Then one catches hold of the other
And they start to play chase the whale.

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A few brief words

What's The Point?


What’s the point?
I ask myself,
In having golden wings
And painted masks for faces?
They’re only tawdry things.

I’m still myself inside the mask


I’ve nothing I can hide.
My little girl emotions
Are always there to see,
Ready to take care of
Some other broken wings.

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Lesley Chambers

Why?
Why does there have to be
Such very blusterous weather?
It unsettles me and ruffles my feathers.

Why do there have to be


So many insects?
They bother me. They are alien.

Why does there have to be


Cat sick in your shoe?
I don’t need that, I’m stressed.

Why does Australia have to be


So very far away?
I can’t stand fourteen hours cooped up.

Why does, there, have to be


Popcorn in the cinema?
The smell is enough to make me gyp.

Why does, there, have to be


Shrubbery in the sandwich?
It’s not for me. I’m not a rabbit.

I know the answer, really.


I haven’t learned humility.
I’m not sufficiently humile.
More practice is needed.

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A few brief words

Ziggy the Magnificent


Great Moyogi, Lord and Master,
Watches over his domain
From his vantage point
On the Victorian mantelpiece.

In the dining room,


His servants are allowed
To finish their meal.
In a moment they will collect him.

Down on the carpet,


A pair of green eyes glow.
In the darkness of her sleek black body,
Molly looks up at him from the edge of Hell.

Down leaps the master


In pursuit of the Infidel.
The black she-devil
Who presumes on his benevolence.

The barbarian horde


Gallops across the domestic landscape,
Scattering the ornaments
And tangling to tablecloth.

The master has assumed his disguise.


Red Eyed Bill is on the loose!
Eyes bulge wide. Ears lay flat.
The Molly Cat makes a dash for the garden.

He’s strong and powerful


Is Red Eyed Bill.
His right cross fells poor Molly,
Who dives for cover with a piteous squeak.

The contest won, the victor returns


To his favourite bush by the fence.
Mum opens the fridge to look for chicken.
And Ziggy comes ambling home again.

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