A Bullet Or A Rocking Chair Poem by Mark Heathcote

I have a bullet or a rocking chair
A young skeleton or a fairy crown
Which one do I stick around for?
One is imaginary:
The other is a dumbing down
What is reality and where can it be found.

A starship travels far from where it started from
Or was it a saucer sent on its way in vengeance-
For my loose cruel tongue
Whichever I chose neither one will spin on for long.

I also have a cat he wants to be an owl
He sits all night in a sycamore tree
Hoping to Helicopter down on the dormouse
Who he delegates and beliefs might just be me.

I have a bullet or a rocking chair you see
Sometimes I dream of
Pulling that trigger or just sitting there in the dark
I catnap dreaming, I am an old owl
Flying to those far away places, places for me.
In the moonlight, there's a dish of warm milk
But it's bloody on the floor and cold

Oh, life is an ancient cartouche
Of all, that's gone, long before
Whichever I chose neither one will spin on for long.
So I'll just guess I'll join the fairies on the rocking chair
Or else you can execute me for being a bore
That's if you are willing to pin me against the wall.

You can drag my sarcophagus till you too
Die of heartache and bronchitis
Cause I still have my decision to be made
Do I choose a bullet or a rocking chair?
And who the hell are you to say you care
If you love me, honey, you must be just a fool
Or else all fur coat and no knickers.

But I guess that's what makes this old owl hoot
Till it's so old it goes deaf and mute
And just mouths I love you and the fairies too.