This poem was written for International Charisma Day

I know I had Charisma once but then it went away
My life went with it like a dog that hadn’t had its day
It seems as though Charisma flows as fluid as the sea
Though there’s a part of it in you and some yet still in me

When it wears thin, we bottle out, regress to habits, things which fail
If it was less mercurial I’d fix it with a six inch nail
I’d stick it on the garden shed and on the headboard of my bed
To tell me what to do instead of acting like a fresh-squashed snail

We listen to the voices that get inside our heads
The threads of long lost arguments and people who are dead
And though we may have loved them once and even love them still
Their voices, if we let them loose can stultify and kill

So down we go to nowhere land where no one knows how low
We stoop and stutter butter fingered, whispering our woe
Oh Mutter dear, I know you only want me to be safe
But there’s no joy in shrinking if it makes our lives a waste

Charisma lurks in all of us and now our day has come
It’s time to put our stockings on, stride forth and look for some
It’s in our bra and knicker sets, elastic, taut and sensual
Like freshly snapped suspender straps much sharper than a pencil

So screw the voices, sod the films, the theatre of despair
Tune in and switch charisma on, play forfeit, do or dare
The biggest risk sleeps through the day as duvets gather dust
It’s time to screw our courage on ‘it’s now, it’s shit or bust!’

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