I sit, bare in underwear, amongst overgrown grass,
sliding against my slippery calves;
It will cling to my skin when I stand.
Head tilted, to a grey glinting expanse of energy,
Towards liberated memory
Of all natural occurrences.
They trickle down my temples, whispering to the past,
“Yesterday I was a mere dew drop,
Now hail my momentum and power”.
I may be deaf to the drunk drum beat in the backdrop,
But here I feel my own past cast off,
Water shedding, relaying my skin.
Whoever happens upon the milky figure,
Will mistake my smile for a shiver;
But pearls don’t chatter in a cold shell.
Dec 16, 2018
Dec 16, 2018 at 6:43 AM UTC
I want to climb a tree,
Or perhaps I want the tree
To climb all over me,
Brush my skin with a tender touch
Of leaves in a light breeze.
Perhaps I want to be a child,
To climb fearlessly and fall fast,
Twigs scraping and snapping,
Echoing against the open globe;
Then lie there for hours,
The tree tangled in my hair,
Catching stars between branches,
Glazed eyes shining back
Through the black shocking sky.
Perhaps I’ll stay inside.
I lost the guts of youth.
Hitting the hard, frozen ground,
Will hurt less than my lack of courage will do.
Dec 16, 2018
Dec 16, 2018 at 6:41 AM UTC
Drink me in water,
I’ll poison your tongue,
With the ease of cruelty you teach.
I’ll swell up your lungs,
So they ache like mine,
Expand your ribs and rattle your heart.
I’ll spill from your lips,
To wash out the alcoholic
Breath that beats a condensation clouding the glass.
But first, drink me in water,
So I can see you sober,
See the horror in your eyes when you realise the **** is over.
Dec 16, 2018
Dec 16, 2018 at 6:40 AM UTC
What you were, the locals cannot tell,
Which leads me to believe
Either this was not your true place,
Or this was not your true form.
So I ask, who owned your egg-white shell?
Did you live here or leave,
Rock and stone scouring your case,
On wave crests which held you borne?
Fin sand encrusted between each bone
In time has worn you white,
Washed together with salt and sun.
To reshape and recolour.
What remains is a skeletal clone
Of your previous sight;
Those years you grew have come undone,
But does this make you duller?
There’s intrigue in your fossilised figure,
Which left to its own devices becomes less and less familiar.
Nov 10, 2018
Nov 10, 2018 at 5:06 AM UTC
Cloudy sheild unveil yourself,
For your protection leaves life too dim;
Fighting the elements is a necessary sin,
For those who love chaos.
Drink me under, pull me in,
To stand and face the bright battle ground.
To relish in the glorifying sight and sound
That nature feeds off chaos.
Human nature, I do mean,
For we destroy to gain control,
Mindlessly directing our brain, heart, and soul
To order our incorrect perception of chaos.
Jul 19, 2018
Jul 19, 2018 at 7:34 AM UTC
**** blood is alcoholic,
The buzz drips all the way to your toes,
That hole in your stomach is filled
But still light,
Light enough you could drink your fill,
Even if it burns and bites.
Red whiskey,
Hiding in the cracked corners of your lips,
Lingering
just to remind you that later you’ll want to pour another glass.
And you have to take pride, have to laugh, to go with the flow of the buzz,
Because otherwise you’ll accept it’s an addiction,
And the burning liquid will turn cold,
And tasteless.
Jun 16, 2018
Jun 16, 2018 at 5:24 AM UTC
Unwavering in front of a sliver pistol,
I challenged the bullet
To fire between empty eyes.
Lucid, in limbo, falling with neither time nor space,
My head expanded
Filled with nitrogen oxide.
Blinded black velvet, floating away from expansion,
I strained my eyes open,
To see the other side.
Blanketed black silk covering every corner,
But a pinprick hole torn,
A lazily winding light.
Mar 26, 2018
Mar 26, 2018 at 5:02 PM UTC
Turning pages in parks,
Rowdy boys cut out Insult
To little girls quivering off swings.
I could get up and leave
The war between the young,
The kings, fighting to hold their castles,
But meet Incompatibility.
Mother tore track so far
Away from ties of passion,
The threads lay bare and useless in cars.
I remain in the air,
With my Illusion blocking.
Just me and blue: the swing, the sky, ink,
Dripping from my tongue, past and present.
Hip flask, a hand to lips,
Working like headphones to drown
The children’s clamour of hands and hate.
But effects don’t last.
Before blackness hints at stars,
I’ll find myself returned to Insult,
Incompatibility,
And reality,
Feb 21, 2018
Feb 21, 2018 at 12:18 PM UTC
The blanket does not hold a child,
But a matured pattern
Of further possibilities.
It’s wool worn, patched,
Ripples and changes.
Now the blanket blows out the stars,
The wind rushes to echo,
To send a shiver of laughter.
Each fiber breathes, shimmers,
Catching the loose sound.
Fresh dew fills the blankets warm hair,
So blonde it shines through water,
To reflect lights scattered above.
Laughter shatters, fractures,
Skipping to the sky,
Feb 20, 2018
Feb 20, 2018 at 5:42 PM UTC
I know how the slow dripping tap feels,
And more.
I know that sink won’t fill.
Not if the drops linger.
Water does not have a memory,
It forgets.
Or pays no attention,
Each orb the only world.
That reflection clearly has no eyes,
I hope.
Or it would see the sharp
Pain its coldness caused.
But as it clings to each droplet I
Wonder,
Do you try to savour
The reason for each drop?
Now I see, each droplet is a waste,
Insensitive.
So why do I listen
To you cold dripping tap?
Feb 18, 2018
Feb 18, 2018 at 4:21 AM UTC