Dedicated to the discarded
I apologise to those discarded phrases
who in invoking themselves in a furious moment
were only to be crossed out, barred and abandoned
each letter was so important
yet in questioning each word
criticising each thought, I saw too
many imperfections to be fixed
like a boat with too many holes
there were simply too many plugs
and so I had to let it sink
I’m sorry for my harshness and laziness
I couldn’t save you from your creator
who couldn’t live with her imperfections.
The man eater
The man-eater
sucks upon the juices
savours the aroma
of bewilderment
by beauty
The game is played
to her advantage
the pressed flesh eroticism
stench evident upon
the mind of the toy
She devours
peeling away
the flesh exposing
layer upon layer
bones, organs
and finally
the heart
which she places still beating
upon the trinket-laden
charm bracelet
crowded by scattered hearts
of willing victims
she smiles.
A fallen angel
The joyful angels
clearly and precisely
proclaim their destiny
a distinct path lit before them
each step enlightening the heart
my joyful angels how you make me laugh
I wish to fly in your eternal happiness
I cannot feel your love
nor share in your joyful abandon
for my joyful angels, I fear I have fallen.
Coming of age
Gathering the years over time
redressing the innocence
becoming less like a child and more like death
inevitable meanderings trap and pull
into well-worn tracks
we become like everyone else
and less like ourselves
Wise beyond our years
improvisation is a circulated falsehood
a mythological ideology created from nothing
a belief I nothing creates an emptiness
this illness of life kills the presence of the soul
disjointed thoughts make you forget
remember to forget yourself
The coming of age
brings so much and very little
the laughter mocks the tears of frustration
the sobs ridicule the waves of happiness
tender is the touch which pounds the flesh
the physical slap makes things real
remember to make life real.
Wishbone
There is a wishbone stuck in your throat
it sits lodged between your vocal cords
amazingly it does not hamper your voice
in fact, it creates your voice
With every breath, you inhale desirously
ambition to replenish your want for success
The Wishbone absorbs your breath the split bones
two halves pluck you chords
not choking just your voice singing
with the expectation of ongoing expression
Such is the mysterious awe of the performance
the wish expressed through your voice.
A season of light
Do you remember the night of summer lightning?
when the seasons changed
thundering humidity clashing upon itself
to create thick droplets of rain
we sat under the umbrella stars
under the talking sky
we spoke of faith and faithlessness
as the world shifted around us
we dreamed of what could be
and took a moment with us
the restless nature of the storm
we did not worry about the future
we were happy to have our passion
the rain is cleansing the moment before winter.
The same blood
You can be red raw and still sing your song
You can have tears in your eyes and still tell your story.
The truth is where the tale lies
You cannot or should not wait to share it.
The emotion will help you to connect with others
Because everyone can see,
understand and communicate
with feelings
So don’t be afraid to bleed onto the page.
We all have the same blood in our veins.
Nothing goes to waste
Everything serves a purpose
ain’t anything going to waste.
A tear is love which doesn’t know
where to go, it had to come out
or else you would drown.
A beating heart, filled with unrequited regret
is your big soul expressing itself
remember we are made of light
and its got to shine
whether you want it or not
we can’t resist all of this love
sometimes it hurts, we ache for it
we cry for it, it won’t be denied.
None of it is wasted because it is
where we come from
and from whence
we return.
Friendzone
I don't need anyone,
I have myself,
the love I have in my heart is enough,
strength comes as it is required.
I can't stop thinking of you.
I want more of you in my life.
I miss your energy,
I don't need you but
I love you.
Our connection is so special
you hold a mirror up to me
we are two parts of the same whole.
You have always seemed beyond my reach,
too many people love you already.
You've had too many sexy girlfriends
to ever want me.
I don't think you have ever seen me in
any other way than as a friend.
So before I make a fool of myself
I'm going to stop fantasising about you.
I'm simply going to be overly excited
to see you when we reunite,
give you an extra long hug
and tell you how much I love you
and miss you
because that's the truth.
A bit of grief
I know a bit of grief.
It's the moment you realise
you cannot go back on your steps
to make it better
or say I love you again
see someone's face every day,
hear their laugh, trace the outline of their smile,
hold their hand or hug them.
When you learn what it feels like to run out of time.
No more silent pauses in conversations
seeing them across the table,
passing the salad bowl at dinner.
All of those moments you take for granted
stop in your mind,
they are gathered up in memories
and the grieving begins.
I've learnt grief isn't bad,
it's all we have, really,
for our tears are our love
which used to go out
towards those we love.
After they are gone, it has nowhere to go,
so our unexpressed love
becomes our grief.
And as our passion is as undying,
as our mourning.
This strange sadness will never leave
not until our dying days.
It comes over us in the most unlikely moments
in the tiny flickers of memories
the flutter of butterflies
a microscopic movement is enough the overcome us.
Sometimes it's like a tap that
we need to open to let the pressure out.
But mostly, grief is a dark veil that wraps around
our hope, our happiness and faith
and covers our organs which
find they have an extra weight to carry
the resistance makes it harder to breathe
love and move forward when we don't
want to.
It may seem ironic
but I hope we never
stop grieving
because it keeps our
dearly departed near us.
Life doesn't stop
when someone dies,
it merely shifts
and changes into another
gear and somehow
we live with it.
Nothing to know about grief
The thing about losing something
is that there is nothing to know.
It's an emotion that takes hold of you
pushes you around like a bully that doesn't let up.
You put up with it, let it bleed you dry,
cry yourself to sleep until it loses its strength.
And then you can push it under you, into your heart
Occasionally it will bubble up, making you vomit emotions.
Eventually, it will become a part of you
reminding you how capable you are of love
and how love never really leaves you.
Beyond Myself
Oh artist, please paint me
I'm desperate to be immortalised
not because I want to be remembered
I'm happy to be forgotten
but because I want to leap out of the page
through my own words
into another's heart
to connect.
To gaze into another's soul.
Through a time beyond myself.
The stuff of cemeteries
When life becomes a thing of cold hard marble.
When your touch feels the chill
of placing your hand on a tomb.
Searching for warmth and another's touch
when nothing is left but the emptiness of absence.
That is when grief is in your heart.
The chill remains with you every day
I was lucky to have you,
hold you.
Be in your company because this moment is
ever so brief and precious.
You can never hold onto anything
just the love in our hearts
which echoes and reverberates through
bereaved souls.
When things become the stuff of cemeteries and funerals
when the touch of cold marble tombstones
are little consolation against the heat of fresh grief.
When death falls all around you
then that is the time to stop and breathe
hold onto the ones you love
it is impossible to say goodbye
so make memories
search out happiness and
follow what gives you the spark
which is life itself.
Don’t box me in
Except the unexpected
because I'm bursting with ideas
and I'm going to do it all.
So insanely talented,
yet terrified to do anything,
destined to be nothing
but a frustrated artist
too busy watching Youtube
scrolling Instagram and playing
Candy Crush,
brainwashed into wasting time.
Soul crushed by comparison.
Why bother trying when
is it all taken away from you in the end?
I’ve had better days
There have been better days than now,
felt less lost and confused
not so sad or deflated
I wish for one of those
better days instead of smack
bang in one of the worst ones.
Nothing going right
love went to waste
efforts all worthless
and so, so far away
from everyone I love.
The hurt comes in tears
that bastard blows up in
your face,
whether you like it or not
that emotion's going to come
knock you over and make you
I wish for better days.
They will come; be patient.
The same blood
You can be red raw and still sing your song.
You can have tears in your eyes and still tell your story.
The truth is where the tale lies.
You cannot or should not wait to share it.
The emotion will help you to connect to others.
Because everyone can see you
understand and communicate
with feelings.
So don’t be afraid to bleed onto the page
we all have the same blood in our veins.
Thrive
I have given birth to monstrosities
to atrocities filled with insurmountable deformities,
who died horrible, merited deaths as they never
deserved to be born.
I have birthed many rapturous angels who went straight to heaven
too beautiful for this world,
too innocent to survive.
I have killed hundreds, no thousands of my babies,
not because I’m a murderer, but because
they needed to be stronger
I have been re-incarnated after every disappointment
I pushed myself beyond the sluggishness of grief
and dusted off the ashes after the inquisitions
burnt me at the stake.
I’m a tired old ageless phoenix.
I thrive despite it all,
I reinvent myself
endless times over, revive my fading spirit
because my soul comes from a tough line,
from those who outlived their conquerors
from those who have lived despite the misery
created happiness from empty nothing
I stand upon the stepping stones
my ancestors have left behind for me
I never lose my way and keep moving
along with my self designated path
I thrive on spiting life.
