Extras. One’s of Their Own

Emergent from the waters of the swamp.
Emerging through the murky, swirling mist,
creature, on its seldom-seen surface romp.
Some would say it’s a monster that exist.

But this an unforgiving location,
with its damp, stagnant, fetid atmosphere.
Broken machines in their desolation,
dumped in the shallows, or if could, depths, here.

And animals that were left abandoned.
Remains of those murdered, or suicides.
Although to choose this place, truly saddened.
Little disturbs as float or sunk inside.

And yet myth, or whatever, emerges
from this forlorn scene, as ‘terror’ surges.

The incoherence has a coherence.
Though each a full moon, name attributed
different, in theme, with their dissidence.
Basic observations exhibited.

Take 2021, the twelve months moons,
Wolf, snow, warm, pink, flower and strawberry.
That last, the six-monthly point, so that’s June’s.
Buck, sturgeon, harvest, the next three to see,

then blood, frost, cold. But not the same each year.
Looking back have seen in place, corn. beaver,
ice, storm, growing, hare, mead, hay. All appear.
Hunter’s. When a thirteenth, blue, to savour.

Hence phrase, ‘once in a blue moon’, I suppose.
Native American tribes, the names chose.

It’s about race, but not the human race.
This concerns the onion variety.
Know that go into and tears you might face,
but need not be cause for anxiety.

The traditional one, some think as white,
but with its thin covering is called brown.
Like Caucasians, more pink or grey on sight,
changed colour, with the heat, frequently found.

Then there’s the red one. Not just a red skin.
All its layers so dark could be thought black.
Just as good an onion after peeling.
And I’ve seen white ones. Really white, in fact.

And spring onions look different again.
Leeks, too. To wealth of cooking, all extend.

Told them, “You’re the girls of milk and honey”.
Had introduced myself as a poet.
Were amused. Found it a little funny.
My metaphor for them. Could go with it.

Not overly intrusive, offensive;
just observation of their complexions.
Skin, hair, colouring. My look attentive;
then, went off in different directions.

Jewish festival of ‘milk and honey’.
And Israel called ‘land of milk and honey’.
So, for me, top of the milk, girl could be,
with her friend, slightly dark runny honey.

Hope they liked the compliment, smooth as silk,
the girls I thought looked like honey and milk.

Poly Styrene. “She had so much to say,
if only she’d been asked the right questions”.
Daughter paying tribute in her own way.
Her mum made brilliant punk interventions.

Back then, there was hatred of youth culture.
Their rebellious music was detested.
Unconventional, uncontrolled culture
‘threatening’ those in mainstream affected.

So threatened those in vanguard like Poly.
Sexist, racist insults when interviewed.
In her brave new talent, failed to glory.
Her music, the broadcasters did exclude.

But the splendid ’Germfree Adolescent’
did get through showing Poly’s fine presence.

You can just say that I have gone away.
Maybe to sea, first, as a stowaway.
Or to some far outpost in the UK.
Possibly not too far from Stornoway.

Can say I left no forwarding address.
Had to leave because became over-stressed.
Not to the end of the earth. That, excess.
Just somewhere to the north of Inverness.

Likely by North Sea or Atlantic coast,
rather than hot place where expect to roast.
Maybe will send a postcard in the post,
from, perhaps, Isle of Skye or John O’Groats.

North of Aberdeen. Or, if only knew,
place in vicinity of Ben MacDui.

Syrinx, some American company.
Involved in ‘head-hunting’ and recruitment.
But where that name came from, looked-up to see.
On using Search, two responses were sent.

The first medical. Water-affected
cyst on the spinal cord. Debilitates.
Information block, with brain, expected.
Cannot think to the business, this relates.

The second, a nymph serving Artemis.
Pursuing, to seduce, Greek God’s intent.
At river, she hides as reed, to resist.
But Pan cuts them down for an instrument.

Her sweet sound, then, is heard amongst Pan’s Pipes.
Someone thought this, the company describes.

Is thought one of Hitchcock’s lesser movies,
although made after Psycho and The Birds.
One of the times Freudian parodies,
Marnie, in a context mostly absurd.

Emphasis on female frigidity,
caused by her unconscious childhood trauma.
Assumed as inevitability
for thieving, lies, and not being warmer,

sexually. Her horror as a child,
her husband forces her to revisit,
amidst much marital conflict, compiled.
Meant – man’s persistence exorcises it.

But, his deep intrusions and bullying,
these days means coercive control his thing.

I’m looking forward to a black Christmas
with my black family friends, full of cheer.
No doubt, some acknowledgement of Jesus.
Then, mountains of food and drink will appear.

How lucky, there’s a black Christmas party
I’ve been invited to go along to.
Great conversing, great games, there’s got to be.
A welcoming that’s truly personal.

A black Christmas with the tarmac outside.
If there’s snow, makes for a splendid contrast.
A black Christmas is where real joy resides.
Promises to be a terrific blast.

If there’s some tears, then swiftly back on track.
Want a Christmas like that. A Christmas black.

Cinnamon Queen. Sugar and Spice madam.
Her complexion of slightly darkened sand.
Flavour of enhanced fruit, I imagine.
Aromatic, too. The scent of her, grand.

Exotic, the places of origin.
And the mix special, not ordinary.
What’s there? African, Arabian, cream?
Oriental form part of the story?

Anyway, she’s cinnamon, this goddess.
A deity, I can only worship.
Would think it wonderful if could caress.
To have in my arms someone so perfect.

Maybe that, on my part, simply a dream.
But know, for real, she’s a cinnamon queen.

Sign says, “Restrictive Zone. At Any Time”.
About what traffic can enter; what, not.
Reason for which may need clarifying.
Supplies in, permitted parking; rest, not.

Think of, potentially dangerous place,
like firing range, or military base,
where unauthorised presence may erase.
As notice says, ‘danger of death’ may face.

Perhaps from the realms of science fiction,
unknown alien life, or plague, within.
Disallowed by special jurisdiction.
From there, a horror story to begin.

And who knows, as is said ‘when you’re at home’,
you may be within a restrictive zone.