Cheating
Repeating

Cheating
Repeating

Cheating
Repeating

Deleting.

Repeating.

I propose that we...
Snuggle up under our duvets,
Call in sick to wherever, whoever,
Shut the bedroom door,
and write way too much, all day long.
Post it all, no cheating, no deleting,
Let's do it!
I'm not joking.
Into bed with us all,
This is the right day
For a write day.

Fingerpress folds of pain
Along the spine,
And a flare of agony
As she activates pituitary.
Ovaries are dull-achy
A pleasant, grit-teethy pain.

Keep on with your caterpillar walk, pretty lady,
Making me wince, but in a really good way.

Big toe bruisy feel,
Crunchy in the heel,
Colon is swollen,
Adrenals, as always,
Chronically inflamed.

The right foot
is happier than the left,
Why is that?
I don't discriminate
But leftie sulks, for some reason,
Hurtier than sprightly right.

Afterwards, drink lots of water,
Have a good cry, and go to bed.
Renew yourself, through sleep,
Just like she said.

I am judged to be
Average/Poor
And though I know
It not to be so,
It still pierces like a knife.
I refuse to be a scapegoat;
I am sick of being judged
incorrectly,
And will do my absolute best
to ruin
Mr 'Average/Poor'.
Unfortunately for him
I am not 'Average/Poor'
With language,
And he is about to find out
That I have an above average temper
And a very poor level of tolerance
For unfair, political *******,
And this nightmare of a year.

I do not match
The colours you have chosen,
But I will let you paint a picture
Of a predatory me.
The teeth and claws
Were yours
And they dug deep
But I won't weep
for the masterpiece you've wrought,
All red, all red
But I am blue.
It's breathtaking, that work of art,
I think the two of you should buy it
And hang it in your happy home.
Your talent and imagination
Knows no bounds,
And neither does your capacity
for lies.

Little bird
Corrupted
No longer a symbol of
Freedom and flight.

Little bird
Distorted
Your flutterings haunt
My featherlight, restless
Dreams.

Little bird
Polluted
Hover no more, Horror feathers
have no place here,
Migrate, away, begone.

Who are you trying to fool
With your sweet, unselfish lies?
Do you think he doesn't know
your real motives?
Because he knows, and loves you,
He will not let you catapult yourself
back into tragedy.
He is hoping, given time,
Your pain will recede,
The addiction will subside,
He waits for madness to run its course.
He'll be waiting forever,
And he knows that too,
He loves you that much.

He is the first thing I see
As sleep comes upon me
And as I wake to greet the world.
The Sufi
Knows me
Shows me
Purity and beauty.
He calls to me.
I listen
And I try to understand.

I can only
Creaky speaky,
I am all of
Under done,
Mouth is full of paindrops,
Pitter patter,
One by one.

I am stomach sinkdown,
Licking sicking,
Thunder lung,
Heart is want a
humpy thumping,
Never then he
Comes among.

Those beautiful men and women
On your TV screens
And in those magazines,
Legs like creamy marble pillars,
Chests and *******
Of sculpted, smoothest bronze,
They, too, are unprotected,
And gaze at each other, comparing, agonising
Defeated, out-competed.
Perfection is unerotic,
It's reality that drives those flares of lust.
Protect your imperfections,
Nurture and embrace them,
They are beautiful, alluring,
The story of you.
Someone is dreaming
right now,
Of wide hips, scarred arms,
Bitten nails,
Asymmetry,
Dimpled thighs,
Crinkled eyes,
Captivated by 'flaws',
Mine, their own, and yours.

(Warning - quite a sad poem)
-------------------------------------------

This is the worst thing that has ever happened to me.

In a room full of strangers, the most important stranger
Squirts cold and smelly jelly on my slightly rounded belly.
I smile, everything's comical.
You read about these moments,
And we've waited in a fever of anticipation.
Excited by the chance to send out a photo,
We clutch the required three quid,
And crane our head around medical students,
Three nurses, and the all important doctor,
Ultrasound expert
- I've just remembered, his name was Jesus.

The screen is blurry, dark, morphing into
Alien shapes.
Shifting, sorting, I smile indulgently
At the grainy haze,
All to be expected,
Sometimes, the photo's don't even *look like a baby,
but -

There's a silence
And then something in the room shifts,
Nurse and scanner share a glance,
The students remain glazed, this is the seventh of the day
And they don't know enough, to know a thing,
But those who know, know,
And suddenly, I know.
There is no baby on that screen,
Because there is no baby.
Questions remain to be asked,
Am I sure of my dates?
The pregnancy looks younger...
But I know
Even before they fail to find a heartbeat,
And have already retreated
Into oblivion,
Where I will remain
Through the ensuing operation,
And for months beyond.
I cry, I cry,
I cry, endlessly,
Wondering why.

This happens to many.
I have shared their stories, since.
But you cannot know,
until you know.

That's the worst place, so far,
I have ever had to go.

I must know if you are thinking of me
Constantly.
Remember how, on that night
Pre-Armageddon,
I asked you if you'd thought about me?
You replied "constantly"
And I was undone.
Now, I need to know,
Is it still the same, for you?
Or have you managed to expel me
From your psyche?

I can't stop thinking of you,
You're ever present.
You've cut me out, and shut me out,
But your photos remain,
Luring me in.
I torture myself,
As we once sweetly tortured each other.
Lover
that never was,
I must know if you are thinking of me
Constantly.

I do not like olives.
They are the only food
I have been unable to educate myself into.
Just one food,
Most people have more,
But I will eat anything
Rather than an olive,
I'd rather gobble down a rotten egg.

I want to like them.
When the waiter brings a little bowl,
Balsamic, bread and oil,
I sigh and let the wistfulness kick in.
They are so civilised,
So summery,
I feel I'm missing out -
- But I just can't -
They taste like mackintosh,
Or shower gel,
Or toothpaste gone wrong.

I feel sorry for the olives,
Offering a holiday vibe,
A Mediterranean ambience,
And meeting revulsion, rejection,
(Juddery shuddering).
Perhaps I am making too much of this,
No-one can like everything,
They will never know.
Perhaps I am someone's olive aversion.
Perhaps they are
(Juddery shuddering)
At the thought of me, right now.

I do not need to hide anything here,
He will never read
Anything by this haunted harlot.
Poetry escapes him
And eludes him.
Even the most obvious
of scribblings
Furrows his brow
And makes
His head ache.

And yet, he knows the facts
He knows the truth,
And must know that this is where I come,
To purge and re-emerge?
How can he not want to read,
To see,
To understand?
We will never fully know each other -
Perhaps, as he suggests,
This is for the best.

Autumn Friday in sepia,
Counting conkers in the park,
Lit by a fuzzy chestnut sun
That fairly crackles
As it touches the chilly branches
Of the mother tree.
I, too, am a mother tree
Hoarding conkers in the bottom of the pram,
For excited little twiglets,
There must be near two hundred in there now,
Large and small,
loving them all,
My daughters
wonder at the shiny brown bullets,
Loading their skirts with more and more,
Dropping, laughing, searching, competing
For the biggest, shiniest ball.
Home we go,
Loaded with treasure,
I will stash them in a bag
And let them live with us
'Til Summer.
They must be kept,
I cannot be parted
From the source of so much joy
For the keepers of my heart.

In answer to your question
(Which cut me to the core)
I cry because
I am not allowed to love
Who I want,
The way I want,
And this is an impossible demand.
I keep my heart in a cage
So that others don’t get hurt,
But I do,
Over and over again.
I take the punches,
As if I deserve them.
The world is an abusing spouse,
And I, the frightened little mouse,
Comply.

I want to unknow myself,
So that I can read my poems
And build up a picture,
Understand what people see.

I want to have an opinion of that person,
Without knowing wider context
Inner workings,
Motivation,
Or history.

I speculate, that perhaps I seem
Schizophrenic,
Perhaps I seem
bizarre?

If I didn't know me
Would I even want to read
that person’s work?
Or would I dismiss it as
The sentimental ranting
Of someone needy,
(self obsessed?)

Would I think
That person is
clearly ****** up?

Or worse,
Would I just think her writing is mundane
And not worth following?

Would I read one work
And judge all the rest,
Skip over the name
Whenever I saw it
Dismissing all, as trite and overblown?

I hope that I would recognise
A kindred soul.
It depends, I guess,
On who I would be
If I were not me.

Reach out and touch me,
I'm real, and I'm warm.
I might be able to save you.
Come snuggle,
Tell me all about
YOU.

I'm fascinated,
And I think you might be, too.
I'm ready to lie next to you
And whisper things,
To curl my toes against yours,
Breathe your breath,
Be intimate,
Sharing,
Together.

Understand this;
It's not your body that I want,
It's intimacy of another kind,
The newness of shared secrets
with a stranger,
Companionship
That can only come from a combination of
Admiration, fascination, empathy,
Sympathy, and
A beginning.

Shall we begin?

You are a pigeon
Pecking at a pool of sick.
Leave it alone
It's pathetic
And makes everyone else
Want to add to the pool.

I definitely prefer anger
to denial.
Anger suits me.
Red, purple, colours that
POW!
The colours of denial are vile;
Grey, black, blue.
It's true,
Denial poetry is lovelier,
But anger poetry is more satisfying to write,
And has more bite.

So, I'm angry,
Livid, actually, feeling used,
Confused,
Deceived,
But also...quite relieved,
The tears, for now, have ground to a halt,
I no longer believe
that it's all my fault.
Here, for once, I'll indulge my ire;
He's a spineless, unfeeling,
manipulative liar.

And by the way
It's spelt 'DIVINE'
You selfish
Stupid
Shallow swine.

I miss someone that I don't even know.
The love affair I had in my head
Bears no resemblance to the
hope of a ****
That he had in his.
What I thought I felt
Was based on a misconception
Misunderstanding
MISTAKE.
Little Miss Stupid.
You traced a shaky outline round him
Cut it out
And stuck it to the wall of your heart.
Now it's peeling off
To fall at your feet.
The real him is even thinner than that flimsy paper
The real you is as fragile
And as easily
crumpled
and
binned.

Hope
is like a rope
To cling to,
Almost out of reach.

Hope
is like a turtle
Stranded,
lost upon the beach.

Hope
Is like a stranger
That for seconds,
Could be you.

Hope
is like electric shocks
That pierce me
Through and through.

I cannot cope
With all that hope.

Thoughts of you fade
Like a photo kept in sunlight.
I can still remember your laugh,
Your voice,
Our kiss,
But the potency is distilled,
Diluted,
Watered down.

One day soon,
I will be able to think of you in abstract,
Just another someone.
A slightly awkward association,
Jarring slightly
In an otherwise pleasant afternoon.

I must admit,
I don't want this to happen.
You, for me, should ever be
Vibrant, dazzling, primary
But you are greying,
Fading, leaving me,
And I must let this be.

Children
Autumn
Rain
Love
Hate
Pain

Learning
Tired
Reading

Year­ning
Wired
Bleeding

Writing
Bruised

Fighting

Used

Crying
Tryi­ng

No more lying.

He is a gentle, lonely man
Looking for love
But willing to accept
company, and comfort.
He is crying alone, now,
In a vast and empty bed
Having said goodbye to another someone
Twelve hours later than advisable.
Those transient lovers
Are always impressed with his beautiful house,
His designer bed, with Harrods sheets
Everything white, and the best of the best.
He tells them he's an architect, and it shows
In the immaculacy,
But last night he took home a builder
To ***** and rumple those pristine sheets,
And he wished for an excuse to knock through the walls
And tear it all down,
So he could keep him, to rebuild.

So

Crushed
By sadness that
I cannot

Breathe

So

Weighed
With guilt that
I cannot

Move

So

Wracked
With pain that
I cannot

Try

So
Overwhelmed
That
I cannot

Cry.

I only feel completely me,
Twenty seconds after I've finished spooning up the froth
from a perfect flat white,
Or ten minutes after the final sip
of that first glass of champagne.

It's like something clicks in my head -
Buzz or bubbles -
I need that lubrication
To feel complete.

And so my weekday mornings
And my weekend evenings
are set.
I should experiment for a single week;
Switch the two around.
The office would be interesting,
And my Friday night would be terribly productive,
If perhaps a little tame...

He was the only man who I knew could gaze on me naked forever
And never stop wanting me.
I bewitched him
And I believed him, believed this;
That I could mesmerise another.
This he gave me,
Belief in my beauty.
The chance to see through his eyes;
Someone amazing,
Someone who shines.

I wish I could tell him how he enriched me
With confidence, pleasure, such moments of joy.
He introduced me to my bodies longings,
For months I could think of nothing but him
A thunderstorm of lust from dawn 'til dusk.
I wouldn't change it,
I wouldn't go back,
Not even now,
He gave me
Something I had never had,
May never have again.

In time I may realise
That he has given me other things;
The strength to forgive myself,
The tendency to be less judgemental of others,
The ability to embrace contentment, and calm.
I don't have those things yet,
It is all too raw
And I'm still dazed, and disbelieving,
Self-forgiveness is a long way down the line, but...
Everything teaches us something,
I am willing to learn.

I don't feel like I deserve any friends,
Or any kind of love.
I don't feel like I should eat
Or sleep
Or dream
Or smile
Or dance
Or laugh
Or come
Until I have done
Unspecified penance
For an unknown duration of time
Possibly forever.

One week ago
At this exact time,
We were saying hello.

If only we had known
that five hours later,
I'd be sobbing, abandoned by the side of a road,
And you'd be desperately hunting for her,
Oblivious to my despair.

If only we could have had a sudden vision, upon greeting,
Of the disaster that lay ahead,
Perhaps we could have kept control
And averted Armageddon.

If only, as you said hello
I could have looked into your eyes
And seen myself, a roadside wreck,
And you panicking, in pain,
I would have ordered a pint of water,
instead of a pitcher of beer,
Or I'd have made an excuse to go home.

We just couldn't resist
each other's pull.
What was it, that madness?
And now look, we've lost each other,
And you've lost him,
And I've lost her.
Good God, what was that reckless disregard of danger,
That arrogant belief
That we were invincible?

Your friendship
Is now lost to me forever,
If only we had known,
If only we had seen.

See, how tricksy
is the labyrinth, Angel?
I am not to enter in
Without a guide.
Benevolent being
Gently sweep me forward -
GENTLY, gently,
They look so soft
But your wings have sharper tips
than a scythe.
See? They’ve made me bleed.

I have no choice, then?
The way is dark, and the outcome uncertain,
But in the stillness, at the centre
I will find a heart beating
on a crystal platter,
Every pulse a call to arms.
This I must carry back to the world.
There will be dangers, dreams and darkest things,
I am their only hope.
Show me, watcher, guardian, guide,
Push me past the gates
And watch me flee, I will not fail
The world, as I’ve failed me.

My skin is prickling,
Icy and on fire,
Is this called revulsion,
Or desire?

I'm bruised.
When will I heal?
Best to be numb
Or good to feel?

Tell me, are you aching?
Are you raw?
The thought is making
Me want more.

And in the end,
You cannot give
Me any reason
Still, to live.

If I could break the world,
And slip between the cracks, your hand in mine,
To live within the molten folds
And ancient lakes
Buried in the rocks,
My darling, I would do it,
To escape what we have done.
I'd be with you forever,
Away from upworld,
Which despises us,
And wants to make us pay.
Come with me, beloved,
There are no angry spirits to condemn us, here.
All is accepted, in the down place,
We will be together,
Embraced by under,
In the dark.
We don't need to see,
Light reveals too much,
Just touch, touch, touch,
Touch, touch.

We danced in the rain.

The purple rain.

I can never listen to that song again.

We found joy in repetition,

Now, I continue to repeat,

But all the joy is gone.

I miss your kiss,

But wish you heaven,

Wherever you are.

Once we danced,

It wasn't enough.

Maybe we can dance again

When doves cry,

My beautiful one.

As I fall into the abyss
Screaming at the clawlike hands that clutch me
You catch me,
And sweep me back up to the stars,
Your arms stronger than the pull of the void,
Your heart calling me, telling me not to worry, you are here,
And will always save me,
Forgive me, believe in me,
Love me.
You are my hero, dragging me through
Zombie demons of doubt, and despair
Destroying them with one stroke
Of your sharpened blade.
I am not afraid
While you are with me
I will face the hordes
Let them come
Salivating, snarling
For my blood.
You will protect me,
You are my hero,
I am safe, I am with you.
We'll find a haven
Start anew.

I wanted to confide in you yesterday,
Tell you why I'm so pale, and shaky,
Ask you if you've ever been here,
In this hellish place.

I wanted you to tell me
Yes, yes, you're human,
Not a monster
Just a fragile being,
Let you pull my head onto your lap
And stroke my hair.

But close though we are,
You will never be able to tell me your secrets,
Though I know you have them.
You cared for me in the way you always have,
And always will,
The only way you can,
A bowl of chicken stew, and a hot water bottle.
This is how you love me,
And it does help,
But I wish we could talk about how it has been for you,
And is right now, for me,
I wish we could share how we have failed,
And learned from our mistakes.

Mum...do you know why I'm so pale, and shaky?
Are you wishing you could talk to me, too?
It's okay, Mum, I love your chicken stew.

Don’t try to find me.
I am not strong enough to hide.
Cast your feelings far and wide,
Into the wind,
Let her catch them in her trembling hands,
And offer them to her hidden, hurting heart.

Find her.
She’s going to hide
Her heart behind a stone
And leave it there, alone,
She desperately wants you to find it,
You must search, until you do.

One last link
In the chain.
I cannot leave it open
Without long term corrosion.
One last link,
I need to break, to free us both.
One last link.
Please give me the strength
To make the cut
To survive the cut
Deep breath, anticipate the agony.
Absorb it, embrace it.
One last link
The very last one.
I must find the strength to cut.

This little flower
is not blue and has no yellow heart.
It has no heart at all,
And instead of a slender green stem
There is a barbed wire stalk
Covered with tiny biting thorns.
I pick the blooms constantly
And scatter them throughout my home
Some in vases, and some just scattered so that
when encountered, those thorns will do the worst damage,
Only to me, of course, only to me.
I can't help reaching out my hand
to touch a petal, so pretty...
But my fingers always find the thorns instead.

Yesterday was the second worst day of my life.

Calmer now, we assess
the damage and formulate a plan
for recovery.

Love has re-emerged
From the anger and the chaos.
It sat there at the heart of the maelstrom,
Refusing to be ignored.
After months of neglect
It made itself known,
And will save us.

All the apologies in the world, would mean nothing without it.

We have lost, what we needed to lose.
They are gone.
And now, we carry on,
Rebuilding, redefining, and loving.
Loving; yes, we always did
But didn't always know.