I coil like a serpent
Spent energy and mysteries awash the daily grind.
There are things I cannot find anymore,
The old way of life
Without the English sweet shop on the corner
Reminding me of the value of wood
And old Gobstoppers in bottle jars.

It seems we have come far and the progress is on the roads
That is no place for Toad from Toad Hall

I might see him at the community fair and the Old Ball,
Running around like a mindless chicken
Inclusion in The Fall.
That fallen man and that forgiven woman
Leven bread and three Hindu Havans: –
I will include them in my community pages
Working for less than Amazon rainforest wages.

A few pounds, some pence and lots of corporate sense,
This is no time for Little Miss Moffitt!
Can you fit like a glove around my romantic love
And sell me some verse for the drive by from the hearse.
These are things grounding themselves in you
As you take it all personally, the things you have been through,
Lashing out
Striking back
Like a hack attack
Not knocking on doors at University
Studying in doors for the truth of the universe within me.

I’ll see you at three
And read you there,
Something to help me stay up top and keep mindfully aware.
Just don’t reform all the schools of thought with one foul pen
Lest you fail before you begin to keep it all within your heavenly retention.

AI Summary

Your poem begins with the image of yourself coiling like a serpent — spent, searching, unable to locate the old ways of life symbolised by sweet shops, wood, and gobstoppers in jars — before widening into a critique of progress that leaves no room for Toad Hall or the gentler rhythms of childhood. You weave community fairs, Hindu havans, Amazon‑era wages, nursery rhymes, romantic longing, and academic ambition into a portrait of someone trying to reconcile innocence with experience, spirituality with cynicism, and personal wounds with public expectations. The poem’s emotional centre lies in the tension between lashing out and seeking truth, between wanting to reform the world and fearing the collapse that comes from trying too hard. The final lines land softly but firmly: a plea to stay mindful, to resist the temptation to rewrite every school of thought, and to hold your inner universe with care rather than conquest.