What goes on in my head (at Christmas)? by Lorna Collins

Lorna performed this poem at our Christmas Special show.

In her own words, “this is a poem about the things I can hear and see, which are unique…weird, bizarre, special. Please hear me, see me. This is:”

What goes on in my head (at Christmas)?

Another year older,

I’m bolder but bewildered 

by the troll, a blue mole,

who sits on my shoulder.

He controls the hole in my soul,

foaling shoals of purple visions.

I see three snakes. Not fake ones,

but reeking stoked up poison,

boiling, moist, slippery,

prickly sensate, singing 

“We three kings of Orient are!”

The snakes are flaky, they crack,

taken. Their wake is the appearance

of the incoherent but decadent elephant

who wants to drink gin.

We down a glass (each),

as the elly gathers welly

and – with a brolly – leaps into the abyss.

Next, I’m kissed by a curse.

I see my hearse, I’m broken.

I watch my bawdy body being taken

fried up like bacon, then rotting, in a coffin.

I try to breathe beneath these visions.

Their stubborn frisson is a villainous,

constant, invasive emission.

I am imprisoned, but driven and glistening,

elevated, even.

I hear a parrot singing “Silent Night”,

perched upon a pirate’s turret.

With my trident, I sing along,

heartened that my own night will never be silent.

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