'Words are, of course, the most powerful drug used by mankind.' Rudyard Kipling.
Gossamer binds my heart to my head
To my stomach, encroaching on my limbs
And you gurgle in my throat, threatening
All day long.
Mummy! Mummy! Not only will I never yell it,
I’ll never hear it yelled.
I feel like He ripped from my hand
Every facet of my dreamy Sundays
My recurring dream has Caesar’d me
Then I remember it’s not like that
I weep for snowy Christmases, sporting prowess:
For what I never had.
That’s possibly the worst part;
I brought this upon myself,
Plotted my own downfall since I was five
Since I dived head first into my
My to-do lists are to tasks,
What my poems are to thoughts;
They give them justice, ease my head.
Make sure I don't forget;
A post-it for my mind.
The glimmer in his hair, those kaleidoscope eyes,
Isn’t he lovely?
With lustre and humid afternoons
We jumped on plastic sheeting
Till our cyclist’s thighs and drummer’s fringe
Ached for the next day’s meeting.
Yen for one such as you,
Sidled up in the overtaking lane.
A flashing red passed me by, mouthing
‘Mother and child reunion is just a song.’
And with that I wished for you,
Non-existent, imaginary you.
But for now, marmalade sticks together
A household of three companions
As we wait for our January highs
And commiserate November rains.
I’m the one of them who wishes
That she could sing Wonder’s song aloud
To you. Imaginary, non-existent you.
Chair scrapes lino
Dark eyes gaze
Over every facet
Of smokey haze
Spearing the duck
Pursing your lips
Yell in your head
Your voice unzips
A fraudulent noise
A family poised
There was a pause.
Not uncomfortable, never uncomfortable, but not unnoticed.
'Why do you tell me? We're stuck here.
It's the end and yet you dwell on what has passed.
Surely there's more that matters.'
She trailed off, unsure of where she was going.
'Ahh, but there is nothing that matters more at the end than what has passed.'
He let that comment sit in the sticky air.
'Take us, for instance.'
She kicked rocks up onto her foot and into the sea.
'Would we ever talk like this should we have known each other at home?
This candidly? No.
There are no cameras out here.
Not that we'd be worried about doing something wrong.
This isn't wrong.
But worried about what people would think. What they'd say.
We wouldn't voice these concerns to each other, but they'd be there.
Complete comfort, complete ease.
But it would be tainted by the sins of those who have gone before.
The minds of those who search for judgement.'
He had a habit of going off into unintelligible speech at the end.
Breath seemed to evade him for a moment, then release.
She usually had some quick reply. Funny to only them;
But she just stood there. Without speaking.
When you stop speaking, the sounds around you seem to amplify.
Suddenly the rustle of the leaves nearby,
The twiddle of the birds,
The rush of white water meeting sand,
The distant commotion of the rest of the group setting up a fire.
There are two trees;
One standing tall and pure
And one below, shaking in the river
With paler colour, and crooked edge.
We have ourselves
And the selves we reflect to the world.
The truest terror is leaning forward
And diving in.
To behold a horizon
With but a microscope
Would be to inhale Your world
With but a lifetime.
Your stone is tied heavy
To pull me down to Earth.
But loosed to rise and
Let me gasp at Heaven.
Plato was never so right
Than when he spoke of love
Your touch; in only an arm on the shoulder
Your words; the whispers of someone much older
Your goodbye; words of care ‘til tomorrow
Your time; seconds of mysteries I'll borrow
I’m thankful, as I wouldn’t have chosen me
For platonic love such as this.
Tipping out the innards of your drawers,
Any sign of liquid that would pour as glue.
And piece together your dismembered dream,
In which fantasy and reality pas de deux.
The purple that was to drape his shoulders
Flowed out from his hands, his feet
Swallowed up for all time.
Like breathing in someone else’s air
A lifeline that was not mine to take
But was yours to share, you add, smiling
You swore, that this would stay the same.
I should rather have trusted the waves.
I look across to you and think,
Of all I should like to say.
How much aching has come from knowing
You’re part of her ‘nothing to live for.’
In your hands is her son she did tell,
All the secrets best kept behind lips.
In your arms is the boy who hid keys,
To save Gums from the pain of her wreckage.
In your eyes is the look that feigns hope,
Just to keep him from living in real.
In the room there’s the man in the suit,
Breathes in deep and darts out the door.
To chase her on trains and carriages,
To love her, to watch run away.
And yell back the ways that you wronged,
Her sweet-kissing rises and falls.
In your city is proof that it’s bread,
Not blood that does impact a soul.
In your mind you know that her too,
Is hurting ‘til stars meet their end.
I look over to you and say nothing,
For it’s what you already do know.
We scoff at smokers sucking in stone
Yet we've held plastic cigarettes of our own
Nightcaps of cyanide to end Hell's day
A field one at that, while we wandered away
From higher thoughts and chanting gulls
Now poisoned air does fill our lungs
Singin' Glory Glory to emporiums that sell
All that we won when the lottery balls fell.
There’s two things I hate equally
Being thought of as incapable
And how incapable I think I am.
There is security in crossing the threshold,
To mixing breaths and beating hearts.
Not knowing if you will journey home
Is torture, but nothing when compared
To wondering do you even live here.
Scurry to your home and take,
The food scraps from the path.
Bodies pressing either side,
You step on toes and gasp.
Frantic, push and pull your way,
Throughout the sticky crowd.
The mass of your to-dos and fros,
Screaming out aloud.
A six pack puzzle rests in its place on the shelf,
Winding and winding and whirring itself.
A boy takes it up and cries through the case,
Every tear from his eye, washing his father’s face.
There’s hundreds of you, to fill every ambulance,
Flashing and singing your way to the cells.
What to call a puzzle that stays unsolved,
Until time counts the stars of eternity.
If words can be arranged to evoke fading memories
Then the power of joy and despair lay in their hands
For mine, I write them down to be read aloud
With fresh wounds healed as planned.