Plasticine

Men are made from plasticine
Not soil, or earth, or clay
You can mould a man into what you want
But he'll never stay that way
©cih

Inner Self

I've known you too long to be fooled
I know you're not the self you portray
Attack to defend
Lash out, not befriend
Can't you see it's yourself you betray?
©cih00

Be a Writer

Pain is good for poetry
Mourning aids the Muse
Agony clears the intellect
Passion will merely confuse
©cih

Fake Tan

No it isn't some horrid skin disease
Leaving me with white streaks
And orange patches on my knees
©cih

The Carnivore's Lament

I find it increasingly hard
(As I attempt a culinary treat)
To find one or more of my friends
Who will publicly profess to eat meat

Now surely the cult of the 'veggie'
Is only a temporary phase
I'm sure we have the technology
To end this new-fangled craze

So hurrah for the carnivore people
Who will once again cry with relief
"Let us now go out for dinner
And have potatoes, Yorkshire pudding, and beef!"
©cih

Epilepsy

The longest moments of self uncontrol
Limbs jerking against mental will
The frightening spasms of electrical surges
All controlled by a pill
©cih

Pillow

In duvet huddled
Pillows cuddled
Softly round your head
I wait and stand
Cushion in hand
And wonder
'Is he dead?'
©cih