There are no children laughing
Playing hopscotch in the driveway
With a manicured lawn and pretty
Flowers in boxes attached to the windows

There's no degree framed in my office
Actually there isn't an office at all here
Inside this lived in two bedroom flat
Where I spend as much time as possible

There's no sleek foreign sports car
Candy apple red glimmering in the sun
Or vacation home nestled somewhere
I can't pronounce to go once a year

There aren't six figures in my account
Or country club lunches with the girls
Black card shopping sprees in the city
Or box seat opera season tickets

There is glitter on my eyelids
And an immense feeling of gratitude
When I wake up happy and free
Unapologetic and authentically me

Punters only buy into words
if they believe there’s worth.
I’ve been begging for buyers
before premature birthdays.
Let earth spin unaware –
never questioned its axis.
Hid from the anxious parties,
continued chewing table cloths,
then choked on the spike of a train stub.

Not much value in a decade thrice lived –
standing on the coast in yesterday’s underwear,
a teenage busker sits between hip-hop legacy
as new marble faces arrive in constant rotation.
I’m waiting for my estranged brother dance,
who ran out on me despite his free diary entries.
Desperate for reunion. Bitter for the jives lost.

I’ve stepped further than I ever pictured
but I’ll never walk away from the stalking wolves.
Cubs are warned but continue to ignore all advice.
Lions that scrap with the pack tell me to enjoy the plains.
So I forget the bites and burn this poem in my future face.

My Kryptonite,

A month has never before felt like a year.
30 days of breakdowns and sanitizing my tears
A month alone-
Quarantined from everything but my thoughts of you

Just one day is what I crave
24 hours of bliss that bring me back from the disassociation of the everyday
I know I shouldn't risk life for a day with you
Yet the temptation grows as fast as COVID does

Tell me it's wrong
That I should keep us both safe
Remind me of the cost even if it hurts me to hear
Remind me that 30 days is nothing compared to a life without you.

Day 30 and I want to risk it all.

In another life
we'd have been pinky-sworn to
some ******* promise

I get excited by naps
giddy after one wine
make-up itches my face
always wake up after nine
one tea on the hour
one bath every week
two bags under the eyes
two once-perky cheeks
gardening is my ******
libraries, my *******
silence is my saucy lover
- noise equals pain
my hair is lush, healthy
because I wash it rarely
my legs are nice and smooth
because I let them grow hairy

Chicken Scratch,
chicken scratch,

   Scribbles, smashed against the page.

You are my Poem.

~Robert van Lingen

Rachel Ray was amazing
to the tot that watched
while grandparents talked
to the parent that brought me along

Sat hands in lap
on the living room floor
slowly arching back as each meal passed

We never made any recipe
though I'd thought a lot about it
and often wanted to

Traversing my minefields,
   Is an impossible task,
Find another way around,
   So that you don't get hurt,
Because that would be sad.
  
I don't want to make you sad.