more poems

Friday 26th August 2005
Finally finished “Sybil” … what can I say? It was wonderful, moving...now I feel nothing.as I read it even when I thought of it in gaps I felt loads of things. I felt like Peggy Lou. I understood her and Vicky and ‘others’. It was a great book though I dunno about the psychoanalysis part…the emphasis was so truly the psychoanalytic perspective…narrow repression, anxiety, guilt, primal scene …but it did work in this case and it was true. It was great in spite of its American-ness-I mean the author, I didn’t like her. I don’t know why. But Sybil and the others, I felt like one of them –especially Peggy Lou (angry)!

More poems
(Undated in separate scarps of paper-the writing looks earlier than 2005)

(1)
Write write write
i must
i want to write
i wish to write
great poems, epics, great stories great songs
happy nice wonderful and long
for oh so long
was it all along?
I wanted to write
I do tonight
Perhaps one night I just might.

(2)
The stories of millions wiped out forever
The past, lost
Drowned buried deep
Never to be retrieved
Their lives once real
Once lived
Now so far away so pointless so meaningless
Like mine will be one day.
In a few years or months or minutes or seconds
This paper will be lost or crumpled
Or cut or lost
It’ll mingle with the earth
From whence it came
Just like I will
With my life
My story
Just like zillions of others
Lost forever.