Unicornucopia

Listening

I wander round Tesco all edible fat
I wander round the charity shops looking through tat (I’ll have two carrier bags)
I’m looking for something I don’t know what I’ll find (I’ll have two carrier bags)
But let me in
I think it might be behind
Behind that door
Behind your life
Let me in
Let. Me. In.

(get out the thistles)
(get out the thistles, please)

I’ve chopped my garden
I’ve made it neat
I’ve tried to make everything complete
I’ve been a wife, I’ve been a mother
I just need to be something other
Let me in (cut the tree, cut the tree down)
Open your door (put it in the fire)
I want to be something I’ve not been before (got the fire well stoked)
(OK)
(Calm down)

Let me just be somewhere I can just curl up
And be quiet
And listen
To you (catch it)
Listen to you (cat)
Singing your song (hit)
Listening to you calling out to me (hit, hit, hit)
(bit, flit)
(flit, flit)

I’m so sick of shopping
I’m so sick of life
I want to be something other than a consumable wife

I’ve been in your garden (it smells)
It smells like (camomile)
now
It smells like me
The me I want to be (dandelions)

Open the door
And let me in (iron mongers)
I want to be someone
I want to be somewhere
I need to be something I haven’t been

(B&Q for a hammer)
(What happened to all the small businesses?)
(What happened to the tiny little shops?)
(Where you could buy one nail)
(Just one nail)
(or one screw)

I am a kernel
Curled up on a seed
Take me out
Let me have what I need
I need sun, I need light
I need
I need
I need you

I’m curled like a kernel
Curled up like a seed
Let me float out on the garden
Let me grow like a weed
Let me
Let me
Let me in
Let me be something I’ve never been
Sarah Miller & Stephen Grew (2016)

:: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: ::

The Beginning

South of the island
Children splashed the sun-lit ocean
Their laughter could be heard for miles
A boy looked toward the fields and saw a proud unicorn
They gathered their clothes and ran towards the magical creature
Up close they could see she was goat with one horn
Her other horn had been broken off and the jagged remains of it were getting clogged up with grass and weeds
The children spoke gently to the goat while cleaning her broken horn and stroking her body
As the sun came down
The day on the cusp of night
The children went to explore a nearby cave
That’s when they saw the baby surrounded with nuggets of gold
Holding the horn of the goat
A cornucopia filled with fruit, berries and jewels
The eldest boy took the baby in his arms
He had never felt more at peace
The others gathered up everything that their arms could carry
They walked home gently and quietly
Coo-ing and pulling funny faces at the baby
Stopping now and again for a rest
Followed by the one horned goat
That’s how it all began
Ann Wilson (2016)

:: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: ::

Ever Since

Ever since the baby arrived
An abundance of fish
Ever since the baby arrived
More milk than ever before
and more eggs are laid
all bills are paid
No one even looks at the glittering tower
The one horned goat has settled in
The families laugh together
Everything seems steel-drum, street dance easy
The kids are careful and wise
The women are bashful and full of braun
The men are hunters and posing strides
the days are longer and filled with rewards
Ever since the baby arrived
Everything is full
The cornucopia sits in the centre of the village
At the household that cares for the found baby
Where the goat sleep in the doorway
and the house radiates joy
Ann Wilson (2016)

:: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: ::

It’s The Way I See It

If I couldn’t sing anymore
Mislaid my voice I think I’d choose
something brassy, in your face.
I’d get good at it and join a band.
I’d go for the Tuba – Bold and bellicose
low pitched, rounded, sonorous.
Because I loved it I’d force feed
its gaping vent to overflowing.
Tip in swelling fruits and those little edible
humming fungi, Chanterelle – and
confectionery sweet and juicy
lip-smacking, mouth-wateringly tasty.
This would be my celebration of
tongue-twisting chewy utterance.
The noise of nourishment
A musical plethora – Sounds good
My Horn of Plenty – Like I’d Googled it.
I’d tout it around and put out
a cap for tuneful donations – everyone could
help themselves. We’d play a snatch, a rousing
melody – us Wind players and gathering
crowd of onlookers – copiously fed.
Katya (2016)


Some Some Unicorn and The Golden Periphery

Time Begins Once More

We settle in space
We are all one vibration
time begins once more
Ann Wilson (2014)

:: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: ::

The Problem With Contempt

Someone has pulled a plug
tiny movements create a palace of glitter
we look up at the palace
we smile at the people inside
TV chefs, models, reality stars, footballers brides
We don’t know how to get inside
We don’t really want to get inside
we just want some glitter
we rub our hands all over the walls
The walls wake up grumpy and cough out smoke
We are covered in black spit
No glitter for us
All we can do is look at the shiny palace
And then go back to work.
Ann Wilson (2014)

:: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: ::

The Dawning of Chimes

Industrial clangs in surround sound there is a
struggle, a scrap, a scrape through
a crack into
the dawning of chimes
it’s more than sunrise it’s
futuristic bird song we
fall ahead but
we’re running backwards escaping
into mythology to see
a prince drinking tea with
an ogre and a mermaid swishing her tail and
kissing a toad, we see
giants feeding horses and
some some unicorn
canter in the green field that is not
a motorway, not a block of flats, not fracked
we look back, we look forward
it’s just a crack
return to rhythmic, rhombic , restless  grind
Industrial clangs in surround sound there is a
struggle, always a scrap, always a scrape and
just a crack, look through or jump feet first
maybe you will become
some some unicorn.
Ann Wilson (2014)

:: :: :: :: :: :: :: :: ::

A Haunting Song of Thirst

Deep down in the wet cave they
scan the earth searching with lasers
in the drip drop cave they fight
never-ending for survival they
find pieces of rock to take up
but the soaking salty cave kills
it drips with sweat and
sings a haunting song of thirst
it sings of failed tasks
and deep down screams
deep down in the wet cave they
scan the earth searching with lasers.
Ann Wilson (2014)