Seeing it clearly again
The falling of a feather
Is enough to break even the strongest
When all weighed together
Inch by careful inch
Whittling painfully away
What little I had left
To fight another day
Words no longer flow easy
No rain here to fall
Just dry sandy pastures
Burying it all
November shakes the wet from
Her wings and stretches them to
Their full reach; tips touching
The death and birth of October
Feathers the colour of leafless
Trees and ploughed fields.
A thirty day lifespan of deathbed
Lullabies and hardened faces,
Bodies crouching to lay themselves
Upon their own warmth in
Desperation, clouds of breath
Escaping layers of
Cotton and wool.
Winter is as inevetable as dying.
I wander between birches and
Pinetrees like crooked teeth
Protruding from the mist; the
Bones of something decomposed
Between moss and
Dirty forest water.
Black as old blood.
Brown as mud, air like millions
Of tiny arrows against any bare
This landscape could be someone's
Nightmare, some horror movie
Set or a Ted Hughes poem backdrop.
But I stand, still and alone, one
Palm against a rotten tree trunk,
The other upon my Norwegian
Heart. It is a time for looking within
For strength. To be silent and not think,
But feel; a time for building fires.
To gather what's dry, and prepare.
there it is.
the perfect title.
not because you know what i'm talking about...
not yet anyway.
it's perfect because it feels right.
thankful for the freedom to finally speak
to express what's inside
the way i think only orphans
or those who's hearts have been broken can.
see the words have been locked away in my mind
for what seems like an eternity.
the world cracked open months ago.
since then, i've been swimming around lost
but now i'm seeing
the beauty of pain is the awareness it brings you.
the magic in life is in imperfection.
how else do we learn if not for
skinned knees, hot stoves, car crashes
dirty nails, sweat
impulsive cravings and self destruction?
believe in god, media or fairy tales
i don't care
we realize there's more to life then getting rescued.
don't put that burden on someone else.
it's not their fault, the way you feel.
they can't control you unless you let them
and in that case, you're getting what you want
don't whine about it.
mayella is a metaphor
only i understand
but believe me
she's a cunt alright
a big beautiful bomb of a cunt
so let me thank her for it
just the same
as i thank
all shitty things in life
worthy of spurn
a lesson learned.
You don't like to see my fat jiggle or my butt wiggle, but this body has carried me farther than your giggle ever will. It might not thrill you but I'm a no-frills woman who takes what she has and makes with it her own - and lets not pretend, I have more than you know beneath these clothes. There might be rows and rows of dimples and wrinkles and obvious freckles that to some might be cute - but under these puffy cheekbones is a skeleton I call home, and it's not yours (thank GOD) but it's worthy of knowing. It's your loss if you choose beauty over brains and heart and THIS thinking mind. I might have a long way to start to be someone you'd find yourself watching through blinds, but I'm a damn sight better than someone without the courage to stand wherever she lands - and if that's behind, then that's where you'll find me. That's where I'll sweep my floor and make my bed, and if necessary, watch YOU instead with pity, and probably discover that not everything 'pretty' is worth uncovering or owning or smothering with pride, because, for those with eyes WIDE open, there's nothing worse than a soul smashed and dried with a hole that leaks powdered ego and the upper class battering eyelashes of a pointless romantic who would rather own lavish belongings than dance in her heart with far less than what she ever dreamed to start with... and woe to all if she ever had to depart this earth without her heels and her silicone breasts and her lipo-suctioned stomach and thighs beneath that little black dress. Woe is me for laughing at such perfection, unimpressed. The truth of where I am in my life and what I have and how I give it all when I can to others is what keeps MY story so grand and worth more sand than all the beaches combined, although, in this body, all that matters is INSIDE and not sun baking or swimming or shopping or dining or making up lies to refine me. I am THIS, just what you see, and if you don't see me matter-of-factly then I won't miss you exactly and what I also won't miss will be wishing I'm something more than I am which is smaller than my clothing size but still 'too large' in your eyes - but that's YOUR lie because you're controlled through the media and told like a child what you should want and should need, and, furthermore, you are blinded by greed and blinded by fright and blinded through, God forbid, actually SEEING. I ponder what company you'll be all alone to yourself in your house or your mansion with nobody else - maybe not now, but just wait for a while and you'll age and you'll moan and you'll wish you felt at home with your path and your decisions and your mission... and I'll envision (but it will actually be an accurate premonition) a true vision of you enslaved to your fantastical and 'brave' dream of nothing but perfection, of washing your life of mistakes like erasing infection... but it'll all be fake, and, sure, it'll be your cake and you can eat it too, and afford to buy more, but don't go waving it in MY face - I don't want any of yours. I don't need a cake to celebrate my present state or my coming fate. I wouldn't even offer you any from my own plate. The less of you I see the more for me... and my larger-than-life conscious mind will be full for eons more time, which is definitely far longer than you'll ever, in your 'right mind', be privy, or one day, destined, to find. Now that's a party in my opinion - perfect, infinite, and exquisitely divine.
Written 17 October, 2015
I'm afraid of fear
it's dictating our direction
as we build another wall installed with cameras
for our protection
(still rejecting equality as a viable option
because somehow Marxism sounds worse than genocide
or global famine)
as our privacy and human rights
are trampled under our desire to be kept safe
from the terrorism our indifference birthed
it terrifies me that entire populations refuse life for work
and underpay everyone doing the jobs they left
food unfit for consumption
cleaning up dirt with poison
schools that don't know propaganda from information
parents donating their assimilated children to the system
in the name of love they strip them of individualism
our culture should re-examine civilization
and how it differs from corporate run corruption
and addictive consumerism
because technology has come too far for these levels of stupidity
the art is selling for billions and milk is cheaper than water
and it fucking petrifies me that people don't know why