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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required I wondered home one night with the stars, With my kingly rugby shirt on encompassing, My blue Bec 40 electric wheelchair, no bars, Which I was also the king of notwithstanding. Irrespective of my supposed bad hand spasms, Irrespective of my enforced silence regarding, Irrespective of my female sex and mannerisms, Irrespective of my eccectric mind and thinking. I'd been told by cool dude Neil, sanity’s head, That I should only journey out with an adult man, But I was toppled by this statute and his med, Such that I was quite enraged and wished to pan. I was really testing mum and dad’s foul bribary, ‘Cos they desperately wished me to be Christian. Born again at that, or is it really quite obviously? I think there’s nothing in god, trinity, or religion. So I drank peacefully that evening at the Italian, It was my Italian to me ‘cos we’d visited, family, When both mum and dad had a rue spartican, With the waiter and I'd apologised deftly, calmly. So I'd had a few drinks and one majestic pint, The Bec was beautiful to me, flowed with love, Because it had a kerb climber to kerb’s mount, ‘Cos it showed my real hand dextrosity, glove. When I returned I interacted with my born parents, As if they could acuse me sanely of being drunk, But they were just awkward, not nice, not cogents, Acted as if it was ok for me to become a drunk! I was a dumb to them but got angry in my room, And never got drunk again at home until I was 18, And that agitated them until their madness did loom, With questions on how to live collected and clean! I chose to wait until Neil spoke to me again, walks, Which he did rather lately, after three whole weeks: “Did you get your dad to take you out, Rhoda?” Stalks, So I quietly replied that I took myself, the cheeks! We are one of many, and various functionality’s exist, Some use our feet to type, we're still physically disabled, Some use another to write and live, ‘cos carers persist, Some use our mouths to write or do sport, enabled. Why were my friends at school all ginger nuts, dippy? When I never suggested I didn’t have a faith problem, Not a psychological question or daft personality loopy, But a pit to rise from separate from my parents’ religion. Contextualisation frees you into a sense of self-worth, ‘Cos differences are evolution’s pride and mannerism, And if they become boastful diversities that we birth, Then evolution sets our ID above others in catechism.
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