1977 School Magazine

..R.EAL T'R.UT'tr{S''

You got a name brother, My mummy says I con't talk to blacks, You just like all the rest: High n' Mighty, YouTe black I'm white we don't belong. You know too much like all the others, We ure separate let's stoy that way.

Yet muddled together the two small bodies stayed, On that cold Easter Night, whtle the grown world raced on.

GWYN YOUNG

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ODE TO MISGI.]IDED PSYCHIATRISTS. High strung, independent woman American sophis tica te. Smooth to touch her skin, rounded hips, Q-spllsh lady, how sweet you stng. Melodtous maiden, sometimes blie Body against bodv Girl, you are my'suitart (oR so THEY trouLD HAVE US BELTEVE) But No; in fact it is nothing * but a lifeless musical instrument.

Anly I make tt sing so sweet Under my chauvinistic control As I tenderly rub and stroke This p seudo -p halli c imp I em ent.

LOUELLA WILBY - FORM 6A

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