I have a fear of faceless men
The faceless men replay the past
During the daylight hours
They prove to me that faceless men
I thank the faceless men of day
They fuck you up, your mum and dad.
But they were fucked up in their turn
Man hands on misery to man.
sessionsby Jane Lewis
Jane Lewis' Sessions appeared in the Summer 2002, International Primal Association Newsletter.
A QUESTION MARK
by Henry Ebel
On my bed |
flat I lie.
what to make
Will the door shut?
And that which lies beyond,
will it be dark?
Will it be bad and turn
Or the very best Mom
--A Question mark appeared in Henry Ebel's, Death and Birth, 2004
OK To Cry|
I cry happy; I cry sad;
I cry happy at hello;
I cry happy at births;
I cry happy at baptisms;
I cry happy when my friend is well;
I cry happy at marriages;
So, if when my time has come and I am gone,
I am so happy here, I could cry,
I Measure Every Grief I Meet
by Emily Dickinson
I measure every Grief I meet|
With narrow, probing, Eyes-
I wonder if it weighs like Mine-
Or has an Easier size.
I wonder if They bore it long-
I wonder if it hurts to live
By W. H. Auden, 1936
Fleeing the short-haired mad executives
The sad and useless faces round my home,
Upon the mountains of my fear I climb:
Above the breakneck scorching rock, the caves,
No col*, no water; with excuse concocted,
Soon on a lower alp I fall and pant,
Cooling my face there in the faults that flaunt
The life which they have stolen and perfected.
Climbing with you was easy as a vow:
We reached the top not hungry in the least,
But it was eyes we looked at, not the view,
Saw nothing but ourselves, left-handed, lost;
Returned to shore, the rich interior still
Unknown. Love gave the power, but took the will.
Also, on this website, see:
Primal Poetry by SueJo
Primal Poetry by Bradford Shank - from Fragments