THE HOUSE OF DREAD

'PONDERING THE SOLUTION'

In The House of Dread, the deep sleep of the people is slow and long.
Chewed up cigarette butts, lay like charred elfin tree stumps,
on the narrow stairs, that go on forever,

The silence in the house of dread is a mystery.
For in spite of the forever silence, there can be heard,
groans and restless prayers.
The torments, past and present,  are in the walls of this place .

You know, I've never really seen anyone walking about,
apart from a woman who appears early each Monday morning,
and unlocks one door and then the next,
and removes the sealed white envelope, that rests ,
on each rooms mantel piece, and replaces it with another.
Just like an invitation to a wedding, or a birthday party.

The faded floral carpet on the stairs, is pressed flat, from the dance,
 of the deep sleepers, who climb and sometimes float, up and down,.
in and out of the closed front door.

Tushie   1973
 

NO TREES

'LITTLE HONEY'

There is a square of garden, tied tight with string and wire.
There's a rambling rose with teacup tangerine faces,
and a long concrete path not meant for running on.
Just slow measured, silent step,
lest one wake the god of fire and fury,
in the eyes of the madman.
No tacks in the walls, no books, no pictures, no trees.
This child knows those gods well and truly.

Tushie   1976

AT THE BOTTOM OF THE SEA

I'm fish eyed and milky eyed as well.
This gloom at the bottom of the sea is dark.
Sunlight strikes out in spears.
It hooks me again and again.

My friends are gone away, they were,
never meant to stay.

Tushie   1976

THE REVOLVING DOOR

'SEE ME?'

I'm stuck in a revolving door, see my white face flash by?
and the large brown, wide open eyes, asking why, why?
I'm being taken for a big, big ride
stiff legged, a walk not a glide.

I see no lines to guide me, to keep one in their place,
while those who can glide, flash past, the big brown eyes and white face.

THE PERFORMANCE

'ALL FOR LOVE'

You crouch low and watch me,
fall on bended knee,

to please people, one and all,
crouch low as I fall,

onto the floor of cooks and kings,
while you breathe and polish your gold rings.

You stand high, in feathers and fans,
strut the stage, far from greedy grasping hands,

that dream, desire, yearn, for so much,
your triumphant smile says, look, don't touch.

In the spotlight you gleam and shine as you pass,
your china blue eyes, shine like glass.

While I stare into a mad house of colliding  fears,
and bury my face in the sham of years.

 TUSHIE   1970

SHORT OF LIFE

'WRAPPED UP'

Sleep won't embrace me,
panting breath pumps me dry.
I know you're listening,
but will never ask why.

TUSHIE   1972

THE GARDEN

'AND THE LIGHT'

Over me looms the old weeping willow,
shades me, holds back intense heat.
My friend says, 'How you've aged, you look so pale,
what has happened? you were so pretty, so sweet'.

I'm stuffing roast chicken into my mouth,
your token, towards my hunger,  for today.
Then tersely 'You've let them scramble your brain!
Be sure to eat it all' you order, as you happily walk away.

I'm better now, they told me, it's a matter of mind over all,
and surely, of all people, they and their kind must know.
Because if they don't, then who does?
Now I'm better, I can now travel, the miles I must go.

And so I travel to you and your safe haven,
but find you gone as so often before,
when the door opens, I don't recognise the well-comer,
I must warn you, when you go away, a wolf opens your door.

Tushie   1973

LOSS

If there is a sense of loss, greater than,
that, of distance, from one's child,
I pray I will never know it.
My insides are as if rubbed raw,
scoured with distance's loss.

But the tunnel must be travelled.
Even though, it gets longer, narrower, and darker.
Finally, there will be, no more tunnel to travel.

Tushie   1976


FOR YOUR OWN BENEFIT.
--------------------------------
'But it costs so little!' you plead.
Still, we will not join your docile group!
Not today, or tomorrow, not ever!
We don't want to make your stupid stuffed toys!
They are like dead things, and, can't you
see? so are we.

Tushie   1974
















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IN THE HEART OF THE CITY

I lean heavily against the large window.
of a small lingerie shop.
In this area, everything is larger than life.
Sheer glass walls with little marks on,
to warn the unwary. Gilded mirrors, that reflect,
the unwary, and tiles as shiny as the lips, and eyes,
of the plaster models.

I can't keep up with the frantic pace of the city.
where does the crowd go to? What will they do,
when they get there? When will they return?
Is it such a crime if one who doesn't  go or come back,
in the same way, or at the same frantic pace?
It would seem it is.

Tushie   1974

ALL AT SEA

There's a great gash, gapes  in my gut,
one in my heart as well.
There's a wide open mouth, it screams,
Hear me, help me. But no one hears and no one helps.

I go deeper underground
As I dig, scratch and scrape, for a place on this earth,
a cave or a hole to hide in.


There are hot tears, and soft screams, they turn to haunted howls,
of pain, of loss, of grief, loud enough to shake the heavens,
to rip up the land, enough to toss and torment the seas.

Waves, swell and burst upon the empty shell of me.
Dump a shoal of needs, within the beach drift,
on  the shore then recede,
leave behind, a mass of broken bits.
Now, up, and off! over the hard wet sand,
I make my butterfly dash.

Towards the sound of the the magical shell, that
is breathed into life, with the breath of the ghost urchin,
up ahead.
Where the jewelled thread  swings wide from the sea,
 hovers over the the urchin ghost, and glows
like a lit lantern, within a jewelled eye.

Tushie   1974-2012

STUCK IN SPACE

I'm skating a stiff legged walk on a slippery floor,
Being taken for a ride, tucked tight, in  a fixed revolving door.

See my, mesh mash mask, form to get by?
Big brown holes, for eyes,  misshapen mouth asks why?

There are no rules written on the walls, nothing to guide,
Only infinite circles, its a predestined, ride.
Events outside the gleam of glass, seem disjointed, out of order,
What, or who, can explain, this warped state, of disorder?

Above my head, I hear a soft sigh, then a hiss,
I start to cry and laugh, until I begin to fit,
under its spell, hysterical from the sly laughing gas,
I spin, my own noose, tie myself in knots, prepare to crash.


Tushie   1974

THE RED BRICK HOUSE.

In ruins, the large, old , tumbled down red brick house,
retains, one last room.
In its day it has sheltered many, and today shelters  three,
homeless men from cold and rain.

A striped, double mattress, spews stuffing, half sags,
against a stained, splintered plaster wall.
Rags, old newspapers, smashed glass,
litter the filthy floor.
In a corner, a mound of mouldy blankets
slowly slips, to reveal, a bashed, bloodied, torn face,
with swollen black lids. Through the puffed slits, eyes stare and stare.

Half on the mattress are seated two men.
Their strong legs stuck straight out in front,
and their stout hobnailed boots, with the thick soles,
are laced,  good and tight. The men leer at the two women,
in front of them, sneer at the out stretched tray with its, chunks of
bread filled with ham, and mugs of hot coffee.

Through the open door streams sunlight,
and the sound of traffic, until, the man with the large,
scraped, bloodied knuckles, kicks it shut, good and  tight,
shuts out life and light.

With a smirk, he snarls 'Let's kill them both, what about it boys?'
She feels for the smooth round handle of the door, at her back,
it cups, clicks and turns in her palm,
opens to the sound of  safety, sun and traffic.

Another bizarre scene has taken up residence in the
back of her brain, it too, like the almost demolished face,
is  battered, bruised, bloodied, and near destroyed, from too many,
petrified memories, from too many lashes of the tongue.

Tushie   1974

HOW HE LIKES HIS LOVES

He said,
'I desire to love only strangers.
I will to love only, from a distance.
Even to know a name, lessons my love.

It's enough  to know, the eyes,
are brown or maybe blue.
Teeth even and white.
Clothes immaculate.
And a smile that stops my heart.

I  adore strangers from a distance,
prefer we never meet.
Do you understand?
I told you, even to know a name,
destroys the  love.'

Tushie   1994

THE LITTLE ROOM

There's a crotched rug smoothed flat over the single bed.
Colorful squares contain its pattern, each square in its right space.
That's not how it is for me, now, or maybe ever.
My life has no pattern, no meaning, simply no place.

This little room, with its dead night mood, and shabby  rose pattered carpet,
Created for the unravelled, now captured  in the glow of the small lamp.
Who stretches out in sleepless repose, and watches the hours dull senses to the
Steel white concrete walls that smell of loneliness and damp.

Tushie   1976

CARING

Let me be tender with myself,
Handle each situation with care and concern.
It will take time, and lots of love,
But eventually I will, be gentle with myself..

Tushie   1990

HEAVEN AND HELL

Stairs covered in stardust beckon me,
But I keep slipping off the bottom step.
Merely a minor delay.

There's no need for fuss or fear,
So why am I angry, impatient?
To see what is there at the  top?

Lend me a hand will you,
Help steady my slippery ascent.
And, when I reach the top step,
I'll won't forget your generosity.


Tushie   1990

MY SONG

Love, sing me well.
Let the breath of life,
Desire my mind and body.
Open the dusty cave of me, and,
Pour light into all dark corners.

Tushie   1989

UNSTEADY TIMES

I'm stumbling like a fool,
Struggling to keep my balance,
tottering like a child,
lost on a new highway.
As I weep for joy at my found,
Freedom

Tushie   1989

LET IT BE

Don't stop, stay, stand, let's go!
Let the full stream of life have its flow.
Let the beat drum its way
Boy oh boy what a day!

What won't let, the darned thing start?
I'm travelling in an old donkey cart!
Glorious mysteries, divine lords,
God in heaven pull the bleedin cord!

Let each day begin and end,
With hammers, and tacks, things that mend.
Grasp the new green dewy day,
Climb the stairs to a new born way.

Heave ho, pull and push,
An icy bucket of water tips and  whoosh!
A pretty dress, starched and pressed each day,
A purse full of money from a whole weeks pay.


A street full of sunshine, a valley of gold,
Stay away from the shadow, they're awfully cold.
Don't stop, stay, stand, let's go!
Let the stream of life have its full flow.

Tushie   1992

THE BOOK OF PEARLS

Again I write in my book of pearls
I write a garden on the page,
Birds, butterflies, and suddenly an orchard!
And next a blood red sun.

I didn't write the orchard, or the blood red sun.
If I did not write them. Who did?
Quickly I write a fluffy white cloud, behind it is?
A black creepy shape. Well come on creepy black thing,
I'm ready for you.

The Cast Chant
----------------
Creepy, creepy black thing,
Swish, swish and away with you.

Creepy, creepy black thing,
Swish, swish and away with you!
Damn and blast!! Away with you!!

Tushie   1995

(From my play)

BENEATH THE COVERS

'Doodle Pondering the Problems'   By Trish

There are shadows under my eyes,
Behind them as well.
If I were to let my  mind wander, where would it go?
But there it is, I can't bear to do that, ah, if only I could.

What is it that lurks in the shadows?
Sometimes, when I've dared to lift the edge of the,
Black curtain, it has not been a matter of,
What, I saw, but rather, of what I felt.

There was a strange hot-icy-cold sense of?
Its touch, made me pull away,
It touched me a second time, again I pulled away.
The hot ice heat was so fierce,
I became drenched with sweat.

The drops trembled upon my skin,
Then rolled, fell and spread,
Into a mighty flood, that washed me out to sea.
I floundered amidst boiling giant waves,
Then was drawn into, a whirlpool,
That sucked me down, down under the sea.

Down, down I went, and down further again.
Madness looms large in these hurricane of emotions.
What else can account for all that I feel and see?
When I dare to lift the corner of the dusty black curtain,
That lurks in the shadows. Those under my eyes,
And behind them as well.

Tushie   1991



What else can

THE MIRROR

Distraught Woman'  by  Trish  1995

I passed a mirror in the hall, returned,
And stared into my face for a long time.
I said to my image, 'Right or wrong?, left or right?
That's when the other face, crept up over my right shoulder,
Then up over my left shoulder,
Hissed into my ears 'You are crazy, and always will be.'
The words dissolved in my blood, flowed in its life stream,
Pulsed day and night. Finally, it became my mantra.

The Chant
You're a crazy person,
Your a crazy person,
You're a crazy person .

You always will be ,
You always will be,
You always will be.

Sometimes my incantation was a loud chant,

'Dismal Honey'  by  Trish     1995

Sometimes it was soft, gentle, barely a whisper,
But it never varied in in its constancy,

It never left me alone.

Although I prayed it would.

One dream night, I heard a weird sort of cry, it cried out,
'You have to make your way,
Through the devotee spirits,
They have very poor eyesight,
But make up for the lack with exquisite hearing.'

Tushie   1994

THE WHISPER

With a mighty heave, she threw the mask out to sea,
Watched it bob a jerky journey, to the depths of
The green water world.
Just before the mask disappeared, she heard the whisper,
'I love you.'

A CHANGE OF MIND

Glad to hear you're successful, wish you all the best,
How am I doing? weeeell,  I just couldn't stand the test.
The needs of so many people, and their important affairs,
To tell you the truth in the end, I just didn't care.
Whether attending a function fit for a king or a queen,
In all honesty, I may as well have been seated in a public latrine.
It's something in the mind or emotions, so I heard them say,
To put it simply, a few nuts and bolts seem to have gone astray.
Things no longer function, just the way they once would,
What I wonder is, with so much so wrong, why I feel so bloody good!

Tushie   1980

SHE SAID

She said,
'In one night I received the gift of a brand new world.
The gift was handed to me, wrapped in a mist of silken cloth.
Letters whispered across the white sound of silk, they said, 'This is yours to keep,
Guard it well'.

I ran from one place to another, to show what has fallen into my hand's.'
Said, 'Look at what I have been given, I can't believe my luck.
They stared at me as if I were mad. And as I looked into their cold, hard eyes,
I feared perhaps I was. But then, my gift gleamed and vibrated such wonderful mystery,
Such marvelous color, and I decided,  I simply would never doubt, the wonder of my gift,'

Tushie     1985

FRIENDS OF MINE

There's a little band of folk, I often go to see,
They make me feel special, sort of proud of me.
There's Dave, delicate as a fairy's web,
And, Rex, fierce in his Indian head dress.

There's Eddy, who touches the earth so lightly, when  he can,
He bubbles with secrets of mirth, he's a natural child man.
There's beautiful Jane, Zoe, and Micheal the angel boy,
These are the people I call, my precious band of joy.

Tushie     1992

ON RETURNING

Leave me your dear smile,

It'll warm the long journey away from you.

Say a soft word, I'll hold it in my heart,

To ward off the dark as I go alone through the night.

When I return, let me find you just the same as before.

Oh yes, and when I return, I'll give back the gifts you gave to me,

When we parted.

Tushie        1992

WORKING THINGS OUT

It's the silent word that baffles me, it always has.
Mind you, I've a store of  throw away smiles, I  inherited from my dad.
But it's the silent words that worry me, put a hole in my gut,
Words  I sense in the minds of some, they scratch, so deep they cut.

These unspoken ghosts smear cement, block ears and eyes,
Put concrete boots on feet, before they can even try,
To lift the weight of poverty, that has settled like a shroud,
Enveloped each and everyone, in their own black cloud.

But my need is huge, it will not go unmet,  and too, my love is great,
So bear with me for a  while, you may find you've an angel for a mate.
First let me clear the disaster, sweep dried, bitter memories away,
Like leaves blown about by an autumn wind, then, I'll be ready for my, summers day.

Tushie   1990

A FRIEND'S THOUGHTS

She Said
'You know, there are days I could lay down and die.
Could gladly think as I walk towards the cliff's edge,
Thank God its over. And yet,

Other days, I'm in heaven and all is well.
Music, poems, colors, flowers, the song of a bird, all fill me with joy.
And then there are the nights, and they are mine,
To live and love in whatever way I wish'.

She said,
'So far, the light has out run the darkness,
I do hope it remains that way'.

Tushie   1991