Black Kief And The Intellectual Poem by Rosemary Tonks

I shall fill up that pit inside me
With my gloomist thoughts; and then
Spread myself, prostrate, inert, on top of them.
Ah, miserable at last! Felicity.
Those who drink the sea with its fishy breath
Cannot know with what dread I gorge to death
On ideologies - bitter dogma, dialectic, creed;
H.P. Sauce, ketchup, mayonnaise, chutney,
Filthy kitchen work that swindles, that says ‘feed',
Dried-up certitude, monkish inhibition, duty,
That helps us to fall downhill, mad as wine.
There, alone, I see my obligation. But let me begin
By describing my tiredness...a word on my depression.