Poem: Life in Three Psychotherapeutic Epsiodes


Our first years pass in Freudian bliss.

We are all there is apart from sex,

which is all around.  It offers itself

from mother, food

and everything else. Sadly,

the innocent joys of childhood

do not linger on into sexless

sex-obsessed adolescence,

when we slaver like Pavlovian dogs

over every unapproachable wet dream

that rings the bell

of our uncontrollable responses.  Desperate

to leave this phase behind,

we are powerless in its grip until

the coming, premature or not,

of sober Jungian middle age

with all of its possibilities

for personal growth

and confrontations with our anima,

while we secretly, doggedly,

salivate over lost childhood.

 

(from “Seneca the Spin Doctor, Acumen Publications, 2001)

 

Poetry, poem, speculative poetry, science fiction poetry, Australian poetry, British poetry

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