The forms of sustenance, manifold, teleologically varied,
The nourishment needed by Body & Mind,
Imbibed in parts equal and relative, or not:
Unbalanced we become.
One foot holding the unexpected weight intended
over two. Diseases thrown into unwelcoming & disused
arms, the visible tendons weak with neglect. Wraiths,
like us, aplomb judgements of avoidance too late.
The middle becomes the end and trails to nowhere become
accepted. Work hard, work hard and nowhere becomes
Somewhere, somewhere worth being, start and end.
The pulleys of creativity with ropes frayed. Dis-
proportionate, the strength of the ethereal becomes solid, manifest.
The dearth of nutriment, leading, pulling, dragging you away.
The condition of disuse invariably leads to collapse. A melt,
snow in the Spring, wanting that, the emanation of conscious light.
With what we identify fills the vessels that from far away appear to be
She laughs, her dark lips spread and in we flow, filling her mouth,
just like she wanted. Black ground opens and awash we are, around her teeth.
Grinding and stealing, using and thieving. We exist for her, for her
Bitter, cold anxiety
sends shivers down my spine
I'd speak up if I had the voice
seek help if I had the time.
But crippling pain
and constant ill have brought me to my bed
unable to get up and move
around my messy head.
Depression seeps in slowly
and ties me up with ropes
it rapes away my innocence
and takes away my hopes.
Motivation's far away
so out of my view,
the only thing I look forward to
at the end of these days is... you.
No chains bound to my feet
No ropes tying my wings
No pain when I open my eyes
No ceilings to cover my skies
No tape to silence my mouth
No glue to bind me to the couch
No walls to cover my ears
No wheel to control my steer
No gloves to tame my fingertips
No needles to sew my lips
No mountains to block my path
No whips to lash my back
No shield to contain my feelings
No evil that grows for feeding
No cap to bottle my tears
No darkness when light is near
The majority of the sounds from these lips fall short
Cliff divers into the deep pools of my honest hopes
Lisps alive track the airs of those lost absently at port
Crushed on the rocks in too complex chains and ropes
Reeling into the solid complexity of these open sores
Wept openly across the dusty plains in these eyes
Let me fly again, there is freedom in the open soars
Of my deepest climbs and darkest barreling flies
The air is real and crisp across all of my countenances
Into my breath open and short and praying softly
Building on momentum as this diaphragm bounces
As the bottom and the rock comes up on my swiftly
So sell me into the river, the message of moving waft
of Sounds and sights moving along the edge of time
Or will the current pull me under and into the draft
Losing both the ground and the holy falling sublime
And the prettiest I've ever felt
was when you had me on the floor
begging for your hand to scold me
Your punishment was something I adored.
You tied me up in ribbons,
and marked my skin with shades of blue
and they reminded me of my shadow
because I'd imagined it to be that color, too.
I'd traded in flowers
for ropes and chains
and I'd submit myself to daily beatings
just to feel pain.
I knew, if I was good this time-
I'd get a kiss or two.
You call me princess when you're done with me
and send me to my room.
I often stare out of the window,
why I do what I do
but love is a funny thing,
and you haven't a clue
You don't know how to love me
because you believe
no one has loved you
Elaine sits in her room, the school bus had dropped her and her sister off at their stop, they walked home in silence, glumness, her sister in deep thought. The school day had been an unusual one, the kiss from the boy John, the feelings inside, confused, complex. If she sits still a moment she can still feel where his lips touched hers, skin on skin, warm, soft. She stares at herself in the mirror. Frumpy, round shoulders, glasses, dark straggly hair. Nothing to impress there, she thinks, taking in her snub nose, and pathetic mouth. He had to be kidding her; the kiss was just some joke, she's sure. But he seemed sincere. No one else was looking or gaping or sniggering. The school sports field had been where he said meet and they met and then the kiss. She runs her tongue over the lips, feeling for some sample of him, a speck or spittle of him. She stands and takes off her cardigan and puts it on the old chair by her bed. The white blouse is getting too small, it pulls at the breasts, buttons taut. She unties the school tie with her ink stained fingers, and puts it on the chair back. Get out of your school uniform, her mother had said, as soon as he had got in. She does a twirl, slow twirl. She stares at her frumpiness. What boy in his right mind. Maybe he does. He did seem sincere. She unbuttons the blouse, button by button, fingers fumbling. Loose button, must tell Mum. She opens it up and takes it off and throws it to the floor. She peers at her bra and the small breasts. Hardly worth the cloth. She hates it in P.E. when they have to strip down to their green panties and vests and do stuff in the gym. Her breasts are not as big as some girls, but bigger than others. She hates it, running, climbing the ropes, jumping the horse. The gym mistress is a right cow. Sadistic, body like a tank. Other girls say it, not she. She unzips here school skirt and takes it off and puts it on the chair with the cardigan. She stands there gawking. Plumpy frumpy. She tuts. Who'd fancy that? Inside is a little girl wanting to come out again. One with no breasts or floods or any of those female things that have come about. She twirls. Her bottom sticks out. The regulation green panties are a passion killer her sister says. Her sister is younger but seems to know more. Thirteen and yet going on sixteen. Elaine sighs. Gazes at her thighs, plumpy frumpy, she sighs. Who'd care? Who'd want to see? She goes to her dressing table and takes out a top and and skirt. Pink top and black skirt. She puts them on. Zips up the skirt. Her hair is in a mess, dark and straggly. Rats tails her sister says. Just because she's got finer hair, longer, down over her shoulders. John. She says his name again, John. Kiss and tell. Wonder if he has? Told. Boasted about it. She can picture him and others in the boys' toilets, having a laugh. No. He wouldn't, not him. Some might. Some girls do things, she's heard them say things. What boys can do to them or what boys would like to do to them. So the girls say. Over heard them. She hates to think of such things. He wouldn't do such. Her aunt said, don't trust them there boys, they only after getting in to your panties. Why, her aunt didn't say. Her uncle just sat there, wordless. She lies on her bed. Wait for dinner. Mum will call when it's ready. She closes her eyes. Pictures the kiss again in slow motion inside her head. Brushed slightly. Not hard pressed. As if silk had touched, not skin. Pretend he's there, she says inwardly. Pretend he's kissing again. She does. Tongues her lips. Runs tongue over the top and bottom lip. He held her ever so gently. Drew her to him. Kiss. She makes a kiss sound with her lips. But then on the school bus he sat there in silence on the seat on the other side of the aisle. Never looked across at her. Perhaps he's shy. Or maybe ashamed of what he did. Conflict inside her head. He could have at least looked over and smiled. She looked over. Waiting for him to turn his head and smile, but he didn't. Do I care? Do I? She sighs. Of course she does. The little girl pushes to get out of her head and body. When he kissed her and was close to her, her body was buzzing and wetness seemed to flow through her loins. She takes the pillow from under her head and hugs it to her breasts. How would he have done it? Hold and squeeze? His fingers along her spine. Shivery. Legs going weak. She kisses the pillow. Lips to cloth. Smooth but cool, not warm or wet. She closes her eyes tight. Pretends. Holds. Squeezes. One girl said to another something about organ playing and they laughed. She didn't know what they were talking about, but they were gesturing downwards. Laughed. Joke or not, she didn't know. Don't trust boys, Elaine dear, her aunt said, they only want to. Some boys call her Plumpy Frumpy; other say less clean things. The girls seldom talk to her, some might now and then, but she's an outsider, out in the cold. She'll tell no one about the kiss. Not her parents or her sister. Her father would say, who's kissing my Plump Hen? And her mother say, O you're too young to think about kissing and such. Her sister would guffaw loudly. Secret. Not until my dying day. Cross my heart and hope to. She hugs the pillow tighter. He's taller than the pillow. More of him to hug. She bites her lip. Sighs. Squeezes. That boy Trevor pinched her bottom some months back on the bus and made them laugh on the coach. Finger pinching, nails pinch, made her jump and scream out. Red mark for hours after. And he kissed me. She recalls it. Lip to lip. Pressing the pillow. Lips on cloth. Don't trust boys. There is a knock on her bedroom door. Dinner ready, her sister bellows, opening the door, peering at her, on the bed, hugging a pillow, sniggering she shuts the door. She can hear her sister's laughter on the stairs. She sits up, puts down the pillow, looks in the mirror at the frump who stares.
The day grows darker,
I am afraid,
I have lost my way,
give me a path,
a reason to believe.
Ropes only bind,
they do not guide,
sounds only deceive,
stealing my perception of time,
any steps forward,
are lost in my pride.
Even your hand I cannot hold,
our worlds are far removed,
a signal in the distance,
will only lead me to shallow coves,
I am a shipwreck in the night.
Give me light,
sight to go with illumination,
intuition to go with my eyes,
and a key for this cage I create in my mind.
If being afraid is a crime we hang side by side
Afraid of forgetting
Afraid of regretting
Afraid of letting down the ones who lifted us up
Afraid of not believing
Afraid of not achieving
Afraid of days where clouds hang heavy above our heads
We cower in corners and try to shield our souls
But love can't protect us from everything
We try to remember
We try to release regrets
We climb up ropes in hopes that we can glimpse the light
We believe our own sweet lies that keep us alive
We just stay awake and survive
The clouds hang heavy but if we have each other, they are light enough.
Perversity pervades our sleep
And washes away reality
These twisted ropes that choke the trees
And brings the mountains to their knees
To sit and stew and contemplate
The natural of our need to mate
To spread our kin across the land
And take from them to give to him
A sense of justice in dna
With white washed yard,
And grass green fences
Our loves and lives
My heart strings are ropes
that attach to people like hooks
they reach their strong arms and latch on
and never lose grip.
When you try to leave
my heart is still attached
so leave now, fast.
before the hook's teeth sink deeper,
biting into a yearning security from you
Just rip the fistful of my heart out
that your rope is connected to
like a band aid,
just get it over with.