This is a poem they don't want you to memorise.
You will not be required to answer questions on it
Nor be expected to ask any of your own.
Space, the infinite.
The endless cosmic ballet
Of big spinning rocks.
If having all the answers means no longer asking questions
Then wisdom's not all it's crack up to be
Smelting down the infinite for a sword and shield of truth
In a citadel of desperate certainty
I am a singer-songwriter, teacher and pathological misfit living with my wife and a large number of cats in Northampton UK. I've been writing and performing in a range of guises since the mid-nineties, including twisted tales in open mic nights as Quicksand Kerry, time as a member of Leeds goth band Zeitgeist Zero an extended stint as Helen Held, T ...