SKELETONS

 

I DON'T TALK ABOUT RELIGION OR POLITICS

said

NAN, WHEN I TRIED TO MAKE CONVERSATION

ABOUT HOW GREAT IT WAS

NELSON MANDELA WAS FREE.

EYES DOWN! OR YOU'LL MISS A NUMBER

TO CALL OUT BINGO!

DAD said BABBY! DO YOU HAVE TO

DRAG THE SKELETONS OUT OF THE WARDROBE?

WISHING HE COULD STEP INTO A STATELY

HOME THAT WAS HIS OWN,

AS A GENTLEMAN

IN 'PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.'

THEY ALL SPOKE POLITELY,

NO SHOUTING

AND SWEARING, AND DIDN'T DISCUSS

ILLIGITIMACY WITH THEIR DAUGHTERS,

HE STATED

WHILE DRIVING MY SISTER AND I

TO A SHAKESPEARE PLAY,

WHERE KIND WORDS OFT' SPOKE

BETRAYAL AND TRAJEDY.

WE LAUGHED AT DEAR DELUSIONAL ROMANTIC DAD

AND YELLED - YEAH! AS LONG AS YOU WEREN'T A WOMAN,

BLACK OR POOR !

AND HE TOLD US WE WATCHED TOO

MUCH 'CHANNEL 4!'

THEY'VE A LOT TO ANSWER FOR, SAID OUR FATHER,

BEING PART TO BLAME

FOR WHY BRITAIN WASN'T GREAT NO MORE!

I AM SPEECHLESS IN THE CUSHY

BACK SEAT OF HIS LATEST CAR,

BUT WRITE A POEM LATER

CALLED,

NAN IS A SKELETON NOW:

HER BONES ARE ASH,

HER NUMBER IS UP

AND POLITICS AND RELIGION COUNT FOR NO WOMAN

WHO HAD TO RUN FROM THE BLACK COUNTRY WITH A BABY INSIDE.

NANS PARENTS STOOD BY AND COVERED HER SHAME

IN BRUM, 1931, SO NO FOLK KNEW THE CHILD

WAS CURSED BY DEUTERONOMY.

THEREFORE, I MUST TAKE AFTER MUM WHO THREW

HER BIRTH DEED IN THE AIR FOR EVERYONE TO STARE

AT THE EMPTY SPACE OF HER FATHERS NAME

PRONOUNCING HE MUST HAVE BEEN

A RED HAIRED CHINA MAN!

NO SHAME, BUT HER FACE TURNED RED

WHEN THE LOCAL PRIEST EASILY GUESSED

HER CATHOLIC ROOTS AND

PURSUED HER UP HEELEY RD

ASKING WHY, FOR THE LOVE OF MARY

SHE HADN'T BEEN SEEN IN CHURCH?

THE REBELLIOUS BLOOD OF A CELTISH LASS

BOILED, REPLIED THAT SHE'D MARRIED

A PRODDY - MADE HER ESCAPE INTO THE BINGO HALL.

LEFT WITH THE LEGACY OF

BASTARD SECRETS,

SIBLINGS GET ON WITH THEIR OWN LIVES,

KEEPING MUM, AND OCCUPY SPANISH LANDSCAPES,

WHILE THIS GRAND-DAUGHTER

KEEPS DIGGING TILL ANOTHER BONE STICKS

OUT OF THE EARTH, AND WITH THE ENERGY

IT TOOK HER FOREFATHERS TO REACH FOR COAL -

 

WITH DADS PROUD PROTESTANT WORK ETHIC ,

I CONNECT HIM TO

THE IRISH BRANCH SO CLOSE TO THE BONE;

PAY - BACK FOR SNIPING AT MY

SYMPATHY OF THE BIRMINGHAM SIX -

ITS CHILDISH, I KNOW, THIS SPITTLE OF WORDS

I DARE TO CONJURE FROM A RICH DEPOSIT,

BUT LET US BE TRUE AND NOT DENY.

REALLY FATHER, YOU DON'T HAVE TO WINCE

EACH TIME I SEND ANOTHER POEM;

I SAY GET THEM SKELETONS LOOSE AND DANCE

THE DIRT AND MUCKY SOD OFF

SO WE CAN SIT AROUND THE HEARTH

AND RELATE A GOOD STORY

WE CAN ALL REFLECT ON, AND DRINK TO THAT,

ME OLD DAD; THE LOVE THAT MAKES ME BURST

THE BUBBLE AND SING FOR ME SUPPER

AND WATCH YOUR EYES ROLL OVER!

 

 Julie McNeill

(c)copyright Sept.2006

  POST-SCRIPT: SORRY DAD, SPOKE TOO SOON, AGAIN.

GENEOLOGY FACTS FOUND IN CYBER-SPACE SAY

YOU ARE A SON OF
HIGGINS, BREDON BORN -

BAPTISED AND BURIED AS HARDWORKING

PEASANTRY FOR THE PARISH.

NO SIGN OF THE IRISH OR THE GENTRY EITHER,

AS IN JANE AUSTIN TIMES OUR GRAND

PARENTS WERE HOWING AND SCYTHING, BAILING,

MAYBE ROLLING IN THE HAY

AT HARVEST FESTIVAL

BECAUSE THERE ARE A FEW BABES BEING

BLESSED IN THE CHAPEL NINE MONTHS LATER!
 

THE CYCLES OF LIFE CONTINUE - AND DAUGHTERS

STANDING AT THE TREE OF KNOWLEDGE

DIG AT THE CONSCIENCE OF THEIR FATHERS,

BECAUSE THEY CAN, WHEN IT IS THEIR ONLY

RECOURSE FOR THE SILENCE - THE ABSENCE

OF CONVERSATION, WHEN ALL THERE IS,

ARE SKELETONS.

 

  (copyright) julie mcneill April 2007

all rights reserved

 

 

 

 

 

 

IF WE FORGET TO LOVE

(lessons in the peace process)

 

 

If we forget to love,
Our arteries will harden, and
The river can't deliver us.
If we forget to appreciate
The good in another, they won't
Talk to us: lives will be lost.

If our memories are failing,
Recover them by music, stories, painting -
As re-vision makes us stronger.
Trust time
Make time,
It is an angel.

If we forget to drink in commemoration
Our senses are superficial:
We have forgotten what love is and
That is a failure -
Our trajedy.

Trust Love
Make Love,
It is our Inspiration.



love Julie

xxx11/11

I have not been  very successful working in the mainstream work force - too many grumpy people and being 'a round peg in a square hole' my psychiatrist said...........so back to my own creative endeavors - I wrote this poem wanting to resign from another bullying situation but just thought I'd wait for the PMT to pass, in case my hormones were affecting my feelings - a week after it was clear I couldn't continue to work with one particular person due to the stress - the pay I received for my brilliant work wasn't worth persevering through it all....and the sleepless nights.

AT THE PEAK OF MY POWERS

I was all ready to resign - whipped up(stressed)

And Blood showed its laughing smear

To halt me in my tracks of biological destiny.

Those ovaries that egg on desire and

Sex, and damn chemistry of hormones which

Delivers a rampage of confusion, in my mind(because)

I believe, I am certain, I am a Warrior

Against Injustice against me,

And I write and fight for the plight

Of the children and their loved ones

Stuck in refugee camps off - shore, in

Detention - seeking asylum.

Forget United Nations conventions, we

'Fair- go' Australians lead the way, compassion

Corrupted by fear of foreigners(xenophobia)

We always do forget we'll keep repeating the same

Mistakes till we learn, have another Blood sacrifice

For the 'Greater good', the message

Comes from on high.

And so many believe them, who throw bombs

As if they were rocks from Davids sling-shot.

I'm all ready to quit my life on Earth,

This losing battle of Joy versus Despair,

Of wailing at the wall - gnashing my teeth

Through the night.

Then as Dawn birds sing, It becomes clear -

I am Fool each moon cycle

In an eternal card game, an archetypal

Female upon the stage, putting on a

Show to please, to provoke and

Do the best I know!

The screw does turn, awareness lightens like

Luna's mood transitions and Death and Horror

Is committed in somebody elses

Theatre of War.

It's 4am and I'm singing a song

For the preservation of my vocation,

To deliver us from Evil in the name

Of the God/dess from the depths

Of my Soul and genius of

My Ovarian cycle!

 

(26/7/06)

(c)copyright Julie McNeill