Yadda Yadda

Yadda Yadda

Blah Blah

Chatter Chatter

Voices all around. Making sounds

Saying nothing.

Hello...See Ya...Get me a Latte...Did you remember the sun cream?...

Hold my hand!... A 99 please...She said she stayed there last year...

Do you think the waters cold?...I told you he'd bloody make a fuss...

Mum..................Dad..................Alfie.............................

Why's everything left to me?...Where did you say we'd meet them?...

Come here...Let's go over there...She said...He turned round and said...

Don't throw sand...Don't be ogling that tart...Don't wear those Speedos FFS...

Should have gone abroad...Should have brought a picnic...shouldn't have had that Saveloy...

Did you get a paper...Let's get lunch...Look! A windsurfer...Where's me book?

Where's the toilet?...

Bloody wind...Bloody sand...Bloody sea

Yadda Yadda

Blah Blah

Chatter Chatter

When will someone say something fucking important?

The Woman Who Hid Her Light Under A Bushel

She listened to the voices that sounded like hers

And knew that it was the sound of ignorance

She watched the scenes played out before her

Those scenes she understood and could imitate

And knew that the outside world looked down with distain

The woman who hid her light under a bushel.


She sees an assumption in ‘their’ eyes

And knows she doesn’t fit in

She feels the distance between her and ‘them’

Keeping close to the ground while ‘they’ flew high

A fear that kept her tethered, a life that made demands

The woman who hid her light under a bushel


She used to know her place, it was clearly defined

Acceptance made life simple, passive aggression her weapon

She was good at keeping the illusion

Until the wall was reached and a choice had to be made

Can she raise her head above the parapet?

The woman who hid her light under a bushel!