marie-chantal - Hello Poetry

E coli colonies And clusters of blisters Pink clusters of blisters And scabs and lice Do they taste good your cockles? Do they feel satisfies your mussels? Do you feel alive, alive, oh? Candid she is ah The women of the water Of beds of sand burrowed deep Shadows under rocks On the corners of streets A parasitic mass Not the proverbial grain of sand A fluid called nacre Or mother of pearl is Deposited Layer upon layer Until a pearl Is formed The product of an irritant A cluster of blisters Opalescent blisters Sweet pink satisfaction in The labial palp The entrance way to the mouth ‘I’m so cold and I’m so scared And I’m so alone’ I just So, a pearl fisher needs to wear waders There’s no dignified way to put on waders And when it gets cold you have to **** yourself to keep warm You also need a set of tangs Mine are hazel I got them from the wood I cut it down but first I asked the tree if it was okay The tree is part of the river too you see It nourishes the peat That filters the water that Drips back into the river That is filtered by the mussel That the salmon and trout swim in Then the mussel The larvae attached to the salmon and the trout And it forms a symbiotic relationship Where the mussel filters the water and The salmon and the trout Spread their offspring The way you can tell the difference Between a male and a female mussel Is that when you pick up a male it's Literally dripping in ***** A constant *********** The females all spawn at the same time A mussel is an indicator species, Which in ecological terms means That it is a species that will Be The perfect indicator of the health Of the river The other things you need are A river speculum I haven’t made mine yet But we used plastic ones With glass cut to shape But it enables you to see the river The secret part of the secret river It’s red down there And it’s cold The women of the water They hide in the shadows under rocks And burrowed deep They can move very slowly across the river Bed A colony of mussels A family When you find mussels When you f When you find a beautiful When you find lots of them it’s Called a Good crook and this is where You’ll find pearls If you ask me the man who takes them is a good crook himself Bad crook And it’s I’m looking at it now and I can see It with the moonlight on it And it just it Keeps going But it’s tidal here it’s not fresh I’d have to distil it myself With copper pipes Copper tubes Copper coil When copper ages it turns blue And you don’t weld copper You braze it Soldering at a high temperature A Heat Mussels can live up to 150 years old I held a 120-year-old one And it was so wise and venerable I didn’t know what to do I couldn’t speak This mussel She was alone Down there in the red The angry red water She lived through WW1 and 2 And women’s suffrage My grandmother was alive two I wore silk because it’s pure And women are supposed to be pure Don’t know Freshwater nymphs I can see it right now And it’s just like little tiny mirrors Little tiny mirrors that are reflecting light back Speculum is the Latin for mirror Maybe the water’s a mirror But it’s tidal here so I’d have to distil it Saltwater mirrors Saltwater speculums Spectators of atrocity And mussels they grow With annual rings Annually They reach maturity around the Age of 30 Like tree trunks Like the hazel That helps me to keep them Catch them in its tangs But I want to protect them I am one Little plaster shells But I cracked one And it wasn’t plaster Split her in half Not with tongs With silicone Pink flexible Gooey silicone Their linings bleed every month It was a dark orange Red colour Because of the peat that was draining into the water But I have to protect them Cause I am one.

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Nov 10, 2018

Nov 10, 2018 at 1:00 PM UTC

Untitled

E coli colonies And clusters of blisters Pink clusters of blisters And scabs and lice Do they taste good your cockles? Do they feel satisfies your mussels? Do you feel alive, alive, oh? Candid she is ah The women of the water Of beds of sand burrowed deep Shadows under rocks On the corners of streets A parasitic mass Not the proverbial grain of sand A fluid called nacre Or mother of pearl is Deposited Layer upon layer Until a pearl Is formed The product of an irritant A cluster of blisters Opalescent blisters Sweet pink satisfaction in The labial palp The entrance way to the mouth ‘I’m so cold and I’m so scared And I’m so alone’ I just So, a pearl fisher needs to wear waders There’s no dignified way to put on waders And when it gets cold you have to **** yourself to keep warm You also need a set of tangs Mine are hazel I got them from the wood I cut it down but first I asked the tree if it was okay The tree is part of the river too you see It nourishes the peat That filters the water that Drips back into the river That is filtered by the mussel That the salmon and trout swim in Then the mussel The larvae attached to the salmon and the trout And it forms a symbiotic relationship Where the mussel filters the water and The salmon and the trout Spread their offspring The way you can tell the difference Between a male and a female mussel Is that when you pick up a male it's Literally dripping in ***** A constant *********** The females all spawn at the same time A mussel is an indicator species, Which in ecological terms means That it is a species that will Be The perfect indicator of the health Of the river The other things you need are A river speculum I haven’t made mine yet But we used plastic ones With glass cut to shape But it enables you to see the river The secret part of the secret river It’s red down there And it’s cold The women of the water They hide in the shadows under rocks And burrowed deep They can move very slowly across the river Bed A colony of mussels A family When you find mussels When you f When you find a beautiful When you find lots of them it’s Called a Good crook and this is where You’ll find pearls If you ask me the man who takes them is a good crook himself Bad crook And it’s I’m looking at it now and I can see It with the moonlight on it And it just it Keeps going But it’s tidal here it’s not fresh I’d have to distil it myself With copper pipes Copper tubes Copper coil When copper ages it turns blue And you don’t weld copper You braze it Soldering at a high temperature A Heat Mussels can live up to 150 years old I held a 120-year-old one And it was so wise and venerable I didn’t know what to do I couldn’t speak This mussel She was alone Down there in the red The angry red water She lived through WW1 and 2 And women’s suffrage My grandmother was alive two I wore silk because it’s pure And women are supposed to be pure Don’t know Freshwater nymphs I can see it right now And it’s just like little tiny mirrors Little tiny mirrors that are reflecting light back Speculum is the Latin for mirror Maybe the water’s a mirror But it’s tidal here so I’d have to distil it Saltwater mirrors Saltwater speculums Spectators of atrocity And mussels they grow With annual rings Annually They reach maturity around the Age of 30 Like tree trunks Like the hazel That helps me to keep them Catch them in its tangs But I want to protect them I am one Little plaster shells But I cracked one And it wasn’t plaster Split her in half Not with tongs With silicone Pink flexible Gooey silicone Their linings bleed every month It was a dark orange Red colour Because of the peat that was draining into the water But I have to protect them Cause I am one.

150

Great Hollow She Home, the peacefully there's Mystery. Dearly she labours. Blood running, on to the summer flowers WAIT till I come, Left her, following low singing -- bare of everything Let us go! Go to the Devil! Scorching heat and burning -- hang her by the neck Thy trees mourned. She a Hollow labours.... Ah who was I that hidden from truly ----- Thy the end Erected so obscure away.

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Oct 22, 2016

Oct 22, 2016 at 6:18 AM UTC

The Lamenting Lady

Great Hollow She Home, the peacefully there's Mystery. Dearly she labours. Blood running, on to the summer flowers WAIT till I come, Left her, following low singing -- bare of everything Let us go! Go to the Devil! Scorching heat and burning -- hang her by the neck Thy trees mourned. She a Hollow labours.... Ah who was I that hidden from truly ----- Thy the end Erected so obscure away.

14

Soul doesn't feel alone any more "does soul have a duty?" "She does, to spread message." Soul cried yesterday. "why?" I don't know.

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Jul 4, 2016

Jul 4, 2016 at 4:24 PM UTC

Soul, IV

Soul doesn't feel alone any more "does soul have a duty?" "She does, to spread message." Soul cried yesterday. "why?" I don't know.

7

You threw a stone down the wishing well And put your faith in a ceramic shell, As the rock disturbed the water You thanked the Lord, your Father. Your ceramic shell is full of sand, And you must obey every command. In this I mean no disrespect, But it has to be what you expect For centuries you've tortured souls Claiming it will save your own If I don't believe in him, That must be the greatest sin, Worse than denying human beings Of their own instinctive feelings Can you blame me for my hate? When you stole, murdered, lied and ***** .........."But all that you need is Faith"

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Oct 6, 2015

Oct 6, 2015 at 2:11 AM UTC

Ceramic (s)Hell

You threw a stone down the wishing well And put your faith in a ceramic shell, As the rock disturbed the water You thanked the Lord, your Father. Your ceramic shell is full of sand, And you must obey every command. In this I mean no disrespect, But it has to be what you expect For centuries you've tortured souls Claiming it will save your own If I don't believe in him, That must be the greatest sin, Worse than denying human beings Of their own instinctive feelings Can you blame me for my hate? When you stole, murdered, lied and ***** .........."But all that you need is Faith"

17

I've seen bodies aching, freshly groomed, seeking to fill the void with touch. Sleeping under vibrant bouquets of drowsiness and lethargy. I can see the figure in my future He's drowning in the plants of lust But I should wait until that time. I must, I must, I must.

0

Aug 26, 2015

Aug 26, 2015 at 2:39 PM UTC

Bursting Bouquets

I've seen bodies aching, freshly groomed, seeking to fill the void with touch. Sleeping under vibrant bouquets of drowsiness and lethargy. I can see the figure in my future He's drowning in the plants of lust But I should wait until that time. I must, I must, I must.

10

I'm sinking into myself Deeper and deeper Until I'm so small That you can fit me on your shelf Beside the Stained lace and beloved Daughters To keep them safe Forever and ever

0

Jul 8, 2015

Jul 8, 2015 at 7:35 PM UTC

Vacuousness

I'm sinking into myself Deeper and deeper Until I'm so small That you can fit me on your shelf Beside the Stained lace and beloved Daughters To keep them safe Forever and ever

9

In the cosmic quiet of A solitary dream, I swam through the stars Navigating upstream.

0

Jun 24, 2015

Jun 24, 2015 at 7:35 PM UTC

Cosmic Quiet

In the cosmic quiet of A solitary dream, I swam through the stars Navigating upstream.

4

There is a statue of some people holding hands around a pomegranate scented candle and a metal, naked woman and a *** with a lost lid. The *** with the lost lid resembles me, And the pomegranate scented dancers resemble what I would like to be, And the metal, naked woman has no problems with intimacy.

0

Jun 4, 2015

Jun 4, 2015 at 1:36 PM UTC

The Items on My Windowsill

There is a statue of some people holding hands around a pomegranate scented candle and a metal, naked woman and a *** with a lost lid. The *** with the lost lid resembles me, And the pomegranate scented dancers resemble what I would like to be, And the metal, naked woman has no problems with intimacy.

10

Through the rain stained glass, With a sickly purple hue, I can see early marsh orchid, And it makes me think of you. The gardener's son Is looking at it too, His sickly grey suit Makes me think of you. I was not born a bog child, I was only passing through, The Irish Lady's Tresses Made me think of you.

0

May 6, 2015

May 6, 2015 at 2:33 PM UTC

Ireland's Wild Orchids

Through the rain stained glass, With a sickly purple hue, I can see early marsh orchid, And it makes me think of you. The gardener's son Is looking at it too, His sickly grey suit Makes me think of you. I was not born a bog child, I was only passing through, The Irish Lady's Tresses Made me think of you.

12