My Jabberwocky

The selfish poetry of my 1000 years on a wooden shelf.

Sanctuary’s in protective behaviour;
washed, commercialised, never here.

It was brilliant in the individual woe:
no surprise in waking and faking,
no publication of the beggar’s throw;
just the succumbing to inner shaking

Fuck! the blanket (say hi to the day)
Emotion to revolution to evolution (?)
No soul gutting and people fray
(feeding the self-raping)

Take a sentence to create and pray
(indiscreetly invest applause)
Be sensitive to Art, have an acid lay,
load your dreams onto a downhill cart

Napped too long, kidnapped!
Pause … birth to cause?
Disdogmafy, include longing, criticise
(so cruel to insist I exist)

Non-committal pigs, why should I apologise
when the me in me persists?
I’ve no desire for rental fear
(rather rear it and drink a beer)

Sanctuary’s in protective behaviour;
washed, commercialised, never here
The distance to together is hope
How low? is the distance to me

One, ten, one thousand years, forever!
They thought me so clever (yet)
I’d sacrifice for dirty lips;
a give-up to a pleasure sip.