We all have one That inner voice Egging us on In language not our own Shared With...

We all have one

That inner voice

Egging us on

In language not our own

Shared

With the community

Modeled, changed

To the same song sheet

Except the deranged

Voice

Which slips out at night

Puts up a fight

Flailing fists alight

With words

Upon words

Tight

To the innermost ego

Masked

By the unhinged words

Freed at last

By characters new

Mrs Tibbs

A spy or two

Gentleman

Thieves

Who plagiarize

Words handed down

By the wise

Wizards who advise

Drunken hoodlums to devise

A calmer way to paradise

That inner voice

Begs and pleads

Gives in

To what we needs

To seed to sprout

New voices to put the word about

In cockney rhyming slang

Or scouse

Brum

Or worse

The tongue which William Barnes spoke

In Dorset dialect where folk sing :

No, I'm a man, I'm vull a man,
You beat my manhood, if you can.
You'll be a man if you can teake
All steates that household life do meake.
The love-toss'd child, a-croodlen loud,
The bwoy a-screamen wild in play,
The tall grown youth a-steppen proud,
The father staid, the house's stay.
No ; I can boast if others can,
I'm vull a man.

A young-cheak'd mother's tears mid vall,
When woone a-lost, not half man-tall,
Vrom little hand, a-called vrom play,
Do leave noo tool, but drop a tay,
An' die avore he's father-free
To sheape his life by his own plan;
An' vull an angel he shall be,
But here on e'th not vull a man,
No; I could boast if others can,
I'm vull a man.

I woonce, a child, wer father-fed,
An' I've a-vound my childern bread;
My earm, a sister's trusty crook,
Is now a faithvul wife's own hook;
An' I've agone where vo'k did zend,
An' gone upon my own free mind,
An' of'en at my own wits' end.
A-led o' God while I were blind.
No; I could boast if others can,
I'm vull a man.

An' still, ov all my tweil ha' won,
My loven maid an' merry son,
Though each in turn's a jay an' ceare,
'Ve a-had, an' still shall have, their sheare
An' then, if God should bless their lives,
Why I mid zend vrom son to son
My life, right on drough men an' wives,
As long, good now, as time do run.
No, I could boast if others can,
I'm vull a man

Hark

What voice be that?

What accent?

From whence hails the hew

Down in Dorset

True

The lilt, the song

The twang, the burr which slips along

In the wake

Of rustic country fake

Who speaks as just

The way they must

Hear

Others too

Other voices

Wenching thro’

The thorns ‘n thickets

Of life’s snickets winding roller coasting ride

For ‘tis in words where we abide

In poets paint

The pictures with the zounds that zend

Yon images imagined bend

Bounce

Lilt shipwards roar

Across the seastruck sunstruck shore

In tales which blend and blast

Shadows

Darkness

From the past

Words conjure

Up the thing

Invoke

The spirit which them did spoke

Which lives indeed

Whilst t’words breathe

Light into the day

Illuminate the way

Tas fait la vaisselle?

Pas encore

Y a trop de mots

Entre les espaces

Pas assez de place

Entre les virgules

Des points

D’interrogation

Des doutes

A propos de

Le choix des routes

Des langues

Des voix

Des faux pas

Des faut pas ?

Yes

Y’en a mille

Thou shalt not

Jamais

Thou shalt

Radiate

Produce

Create

Individuate

But lots of stuff on luv ‘n’ hate

Being on time, running late

Weight

Burdens born

With the unbirdened shorn

Ram rodded sheep

Blackened

By the berrythorn

Stung

By the adder’s tongue

Twisting

Twirl in a swirl of silence

Oh arrh a twirl of silence be it?

It be

From which blessed century

The lilt, the tongue

Which sails the song along

The ship that slides

Upon the word spun mast which glides

Past bow of bay astride

The story

Tale tell

Cast spell

By cumundrous circulation past Howth castle end environs to that spot

Which never comes out, yet never rots

Receding with the tide

Returns

To bide

Glide

To be by others aspied

A spy ?

Mrs Tibbs

A spy….

Drone, look

See the pathway in the book

That burns yet

Phénix park like reappears

As Hamlet his own ghost afears

Life tragic tears which well within

The words

Which dance and sing