Your Mind Is A Treasure

Sing Your Song. Dance Your Dance. Tell Your Tale.

In The High School Classroom You Are A Drill Sergent, A Rabbi, A Shoulder To Cry On, A Disciplinarian, A Singer, A Low-level Scholar, A Clerk, A Referee, A Clown, A Counselor, A Dress-code Enforcer, A Conductor, An Apologist, A Philosopher, A Collaborator, A Tap Dancer, A Politician, A Therapist, A Fool, A Traffic Cop, A Priest, A Mother-father-brother-sister-uncle-aunt, A Bookeeper, A Critic, A Psychologist, The Last Straw.

He Sits In An Old Armchair In The Corner Covered With Bits Of Blankets And A Bucket Behind The Chair That Stinks Enough To Make You Sick And When You Look At That Old Man In The Dark Corner You Want To Get A Hose With Hot Water And Strip Him And Wash Him Down And Give Him A Big Feed Of Rashers And Eggs And Mashed Potatoes With Loads Of Butter And Salt And Onions.i Want To Take The Man From The Boer War And The Pile Of Rags In The Bed And Put Them In A Big Sunny House In The Country With Birds Chirping Away Outside The Window And A Stream Gurgling.

I'm More Interested In Writing Than In Performing.

I Admire Certain Priests And Nuns Who Go Off On Their Own And Do God's Work On Their Own, Who Help In The Ghettos, But As Far As The Institution Of The Church Is Concerned, I Think It Is Despicable.