Do you think a look
in the crystal vault of wanting
can secretly covet
without red’s betraying blush –
that some unsteady charm
will fool a close observer
and open the portal
on all of that heady rush?
(Kit Perriman)
(Photo: Public Domain)
Copyright © 2022 | KitPerriman.com | All Rights Reserved
A Spaceman Came Traveling
(Chris de Burgh)
A spaceman came traveling on his ship from afar,
‘Twas light years of time since his mission did start,
And over a village he halted his craft,
And it hung in the sky like a star, just like a star.
He followed a light and came down to a shed
Where a mother and child were lying there on a bed.
A bright light of silver shone round his head,
And he had the face of an angel, and they were afraid.
Then the stranger spoke. He said, “Do not fear,
I come from a planet a long way from here,
And I bring a message for mankind to hear.”
And suddenly the sweetest music filled the air.
And it went “La la la la la la la la la,
La la la la la la la, la la la la la la la la la.
Peace and goodwill to all men and love for the child.
La la la la la la la la la, la la la la la la la, la la la la la la la la la, oh!”
This lovely music went trembling through the ground
And many were awakened on hearing that sound,
And travelers on the road
The village they found,by the light of that ship in the sky
Which shone all around.
And just before dawn at the paling of the sky,
The stranger returned and said, “Now I must fly!
When two thousand years of your time has gone by
This song will begin once again to a baby’s cry.”
And it goes “La la la la la la la la.
La la la la la la la, la la la la la la la la la.
Peace and goodwill to all men,and love for the child.”
And I hear “La la la la la la la la la la la,
La la la la la la, la la la la la la la la la la la la,
This song will begin once again to a baby’s cry.”
Oh the whole world is waiting – waiting to hear that song again
Standing on the edge of the world.
And the time is nearly here . . .
That song will begin once again, to a baby’s cry.
Check out this imaginative video version by Artwayfarer:
(Photo: Public Domain)
(Video: YouTube)
Copyright © 2022 | KitPerriman.com | All Rights Reserved
I have gone out, a possessed witch,
haunting the black air, braver at night;
dreaming evil
From “Her Kind” (Anne Sexton)
(Photo: Kit Perriman)
Copyright © 2022 | KitPerriman.com | All Rights Reserved
FAIRY DUST
A few wires –
a leap from reality –
and Peter Pan took flight
through fairy dust
in front of us
on an ordinary weekday night.
And glitter
shone in the eyes of the child
sat there all evening
stock still – grinning –
finger in mouth –
catching his breath and believing
every tick
of the crocodile’s tock-clock,
and each brave sword blow,
walking the plank –
taking the plunge –
without ever needing to slow.
And I ask
myself why the magic is
sham and corrupt,
in failing to
ward off those
pirates of old – our growing up?
(Kit Perriman)
(Degrassi Wiki Gif in Public Domain)
Copyright © 2022 | KitPerriman.com | All Rights Reserved
Return of the Druid
In the days of old they called us
the Wise Women
and begged our aid
when the world beat against them.
The Druids crowned us
High Priestesses –
we raised storms to keep
the invaders at bay.
Dancers span spells
and wrought powerful potions,
bringing new life into being
and healing ill.
We brewed roots, bark, plants and
poisoned berries
and sang to claim the winds and wilds.
Then the clergy spoke and made
all the Cunning
into Heretics,
ostracized from the Divine.
We terrified them
and were ground down
under the boot of
the cruel Inquisition.
We became Witches
and the burnings began.
But we never honored Satan –
only nature.
Yet those put to question
still gave up
their friends to fire and gallows.
We now roam the land as Vagabonds
telling futures
and changing luck.
Skilled eyes that can pierce through the veil
will be Clairvoyants,
mastering the spirit world.
When doctors and science
fail to tame the feral –
they will label us mad and
damaged Hysterics.
Yet healers always find new ways
to combat superstition.
And when faith returns
I know Wise Women
will ride the moon once again.
(Kit Perriman)
(Pictures:
Wilhelm Kotabinski
John William Waterhouse
Evelyn Nesbit)
Copyright © 2022 | KitPerriman.com | All Rights Reserved
BLESSED BE
Don’t overlook me
or underestimate my power –
I rock in the darkness of night
on a misty bower.
The clouds troll my words
and carry my message on air –
slashing the canvas of space with
a shadowy tear.
There’s fascination
veiled in many disguises –
but some seek only the darkling
feral surprises.
I glow beyond time
like an ancient wayward daughter
birthed of the moon – You can simply
call me an author.
(Kit Perriman)
(Photo: Public Domain)
Copyright © 2022 | KitPerriman.com | All Rights Reserved
Burn the Witch
(John Homme, Troy van Leeuwen)
Holding hands,
Skipping like a stone,
On our way
To see what we have done.
The first to speak
Is the first to lie,
The children cross
Their hearts and hope to die.
Bite your tongue!
Swear to keep your mouth shut!
Ask yourself,
“Will I burn in Hell?”
Then write it down
and cast it in the well.
There they are –
The mob, it cries for blood!
To twist and tale
Into fire wood!
Fan the flames
With a little lie,
Then turn your cheek
Until the fire dies.
The skin it peels
Like the truth, away –
What it was
I will never say.
Bite your tongue!
Swear to keep your mouth shut!
Make up something –
Make up something good.
Holding hands,
Skipping like a stone,
Burn the witch,
Burn to ash and bone!
(Video: YouTube)
Copyright © 2022 | KitPerriman.com | All Rights Reserved
FEAR
I slid through the gap and into a spiraling whirlpool,
landed inside the gray with a nauseous splash.
Trees stood stripped of dignity, shuddering in the twilight
of winter, naked but broiling with torturous stakes.
As branches drowned in the wake of death their fingers pointed
through ripples pungent with sulfur and blue, bruised blood.
Shock took captive my slipping heart, which spluttered against the
ominous fog creeping in to steal my good eye.
(Kit Perriman)
(Photo: Public Domain)
Copyright © 2022 | KitPerriman.com | All Rights Reserved
ROSE
You gave me a rose
in the bandaged wraps
of winter. Plucked of
the heart. Pulsating,
dripping with love and
valued more than blood
rubies.
Just a small
gesture. Rich spiral
of life, juxtaposed
on frosted snow sheets –
but oh! so poignant.
(Kit Perriman)
Copyright © 2022 | KitPerriman.com | All Rights Reserved
Kit Perriman 