I have a set of words, I don’t know how to say. They’ve been lost and jumbled, Scattered to the tides, stolen by ginger mermaids I have to catch them, before the elements. Should even one of those fragile blades Wash upon your shore. Then the wall would be thickest, A Medieval palisade.
Three. “It’s too high” I wailed. “Jump” she said from the crystal pool. “I can’t I’m scared.” “I’m here” she cooed “I’ll catch you.” I did and she did.
Seven “I don’t want to” I kicked “Go” she said from the cars window. “No, it’s lame” “I’ll be here when you’re finished” I went and she was
Sixteen “I can’t” I frustrated “ It’s easy” she said from over my shoulder “No, it’s stupid” “I’ll help, let me show you” I tried and she taught
Twenty One “I want to” I planned “You can” she said from inside the phone “But, it’s so far” “I’m a call away, I’m proud of you” I went and she was.
Twenty Five “I’m scared” she said “It will be fine” I reassured from the hospital chair “But it isn’t good” “Im here for you, the meds will work” She believed and they didn’t
Twenty Seven “It’s over” she whispered “I know” I sobbed from the foot of the bed “It’s my time to leave” “It’s been a rough two years, you can rest now” She did and I crumbled
Thirty Two “I’m hurting” I thought “....” “I have to be strong” “....” So I try because she watches
Tomorrow is the day she left. It’s hitting me today though. I can only hope that means tomorrow will be easier. This is the first time I’ve written about her and it’s not an easy write. I miss you mom.
I walk by a garden that’s not mine. Not everyday, but less than I’d want. It has a flower blossoming right by the gate.
It’s petals are green. They sparkle with dew. Bright and glowing at all times of the night and day.
It’s face is fire. Crackling and warm, a beacon to lost souls and small animals. Warming pieces of people that were unknowingly frozen.
It’s stem is lithe. Twisting, gently curving its way up to the sun. Strong enough to hold its head up and not bow to the wind.
It’s roots, enigma. I do not know how deep they go. But I’d be willing to try find find a *** big enough to hold them all stretched out.
I’d wish to have such perfection in my garden. I’ve tried placing beauty in it, to no avail. I once even planted a pretty **** with thorns and spikes. It didn’t last either. Perhaps my land is salted.
One syllable, three measly letters And lifetimes of happiness.
The greatest smiles are come from it The happiest tear is shed It’s utterance can make you JUMP and LEAP and TWIRL and SPIN or... Or burst hearts sealed in lead.
And lifetimes of happiness Three measly letters One syllable. Yes.
For Mon fille and the laugh lines he got when his boy said yes.
It’s suffocating. I used to read you through rose tinted sunnies. Now all I see are black and white scratchings It’s you for sure, my heart can tell But your colour is gone. Yawn.
As far as I can see, elocution and declamation Thee this and thou that Whence and wheresoever Isthmus and anemone Vitriolic and Diatribe Bloviate and aplomb
But feeling has no discrimination. Rococo words are not needed Simply put is just as good Too much icing makes a cake too sweet.
I met an unfriendly parrot I can’t blame him really. He lived in a cage He stood there and squawked Screaming displeasure at all who passed. Staring balefully at sunburnt tourists Asking if polly wants a ******* He doesn’t want a ****** single one.
I did find out what he liked. Completely by accident. Turns out he likes songs, Click songs, because “The white people cannot say Qongqothwane”
He lives in Bahamas and he is quite lovely. I stood there looking the fool and singing to him for 15 minutes.
It's a little quiet One day it'll be an all grown up big quiet But for now, it sneaks around in the brushes Avoiding predators and spreading anxiety. The birds hush as it passes, The wind stops bothering the leaves, The cats lie flat against the ground and the dogs bare their teeth at empty spaces. Then at the behest of some mysterious conductor The world burst forth into life with renewed vigour, The little quiet passes and successfully survives the day Tomorrow It'll be a little bigger until
The questions don’t stop. The incessant babbling of a panicked boss The bone churning boredom of paint drying with the sympathetic tears that accompany a slowly dying animal. I need a drink, rather several, rather all! Maybe, for bonus points, we can throw in a crippling drug addiction that could, maybe, allow for a grasp on the slick walls of the pit. But we both know it won’t.
I need to escape, to get away from this horrid existence. But I don’t dare. Yellow bellied sluggard. Thank god for cowardice, or I’d be the main course at the feast of the maggot king.
This too shall pass, I hope. Not gonna do anything stupid. Don’t get the wrong idea. Just needed to scream in silence.
it’s the famed drink of pirates. It’s a poor substitute for sedatives Once again my trusty friend has failed in his task Is the pain stronger? Can the mind no longer be deadened by such Does it take a narcotic of higher potency? Is there such a substance?
She calls. She waves at me. Her French manicure frothing Come she whispers. Come with me to adventure. Come with me to danger.
Eventually I’ll go. Despite all the corpses littering her depths I wait for my hair to be pulled in and tied. My sails to be hoisted and set And my nose to be pointed Towards the next port.
It’s a work in progress. I’ve just woken up. Also if the sea is feminine and a boat is feminine then is this poem about lesbian love?!
Spoilt little ***** Demanding this and demanding that. Take advantage of a situation. Make the unexpected the norm. Care the alms, care the hand, for arms and hands are what you'll lose. Benevolence and generosity are treated as weaknesses, flawed characters being nice. Smiles are kind, faces glowing, eyes, testing. Be clear of your intent of kindness. Once off, no expectations. I'm ******* angry at this horse ****!
I missed a day yesterday. Wasn’t feeling very positive So I went day drinking. If I’m honest I’m not feeling up to it today either. So instead of being morose I’ll just leave this here. Until another day.
Spring time morning sun Warming my back, I got lost in the pages of hello poetry A gargoyle perched on a step Unmoving, hesitantly... statuesque
A northern mockingbird took rest on my foot A moments respite from beating wing And gravity defying flight My poor heart jumped at his sudden touch And my foot ****** up and away Those unexpected scratchings My coffee cup flying
The mockingbird was no better All grace and glide destroyed Frantic scrabble of feathered pinions Escape from this simulacrum come to life.
Now, From his new purchase he examines me Suspicious eyes, blaming. An oddity such as me. And I him.
Needless to say, we both barely survived the encounter.
I almost died from fright. So did he though. So we’re even. Fort Lauderdale birds. Eish
Surprisingly the dusted air does not bring a gritty mouth? It seeps sandy, into the recesses of skyscrapers, gives bright blue pools a poxy composure. Its probably why the buildings aren't white but not why my teeth aren't
It's accompanied by muted roars, a cacophony of humanity in the near and far. Indians eating Ethiopian, Pakistanis driving Chinese cars, Arabs shopping at Bloomingdales, Filipinos Filipinoing.
A city that embodies the glittering gold of empty flats and abandoned offices, the cushion covered loungers and the overwhelming urge to jump from the 26th floor balcony.
A squinted eye admires the Burjes. A shielded glance is spared for the Mosques. Their brilliance is solar, my sunglasses game is weak and my neck is starting to get sore.
A spherical furnace lights the world His great love mimics his efforts at night Orbs daytime warmth doth flowers unfurl Her pale lunar grace cradles lovers in flight
An embrace that is mythed in the ages of men Portents of great things from dessert to fen Their coupling is spied with shielded eye Until she leaves his bright daytime sky
Its like trying to describe the love affair between the sun and the moon. Two celestials destined to be forever apart. One who has naught but consistency and a passion that extinguishes even sight. The other has a sky full of diamonds watching her wax and wane through the darkness.
Their meetings are rare, but celebrated around the globe. Entire populations stand in awe with shielded eyes to see these two great lovers entwined in the heavens. For brief moments her radiance is all that can challenge his, until she moves on to dally amongst those more distant. Leaving him once again to burn brightly in an empty sky
I bought a perfect pineapple It screamed of being sweet. It’s burnt orange blush, It pale green spiked leaves. To try and preserve such beauty, Would bear sour fruit. To fight for its posterity when it will not fight too.
So I lopped off it’s head Carefully removed its fruit and Casually discarded its core And satisfied my craving Done before you begin. Safe.
Live for the day. Trust no one with your heart. Seize what happiness you can make for yourself.
I sat beneath the tree of me its sheltering boughs spread wide. Catching the afternoon sunlight on hoary green leaves.
I sat beneath the tree of me it's twisted, gnarled trunk stood strong, Scarred by initials crossed out. It's gooey sap ebbing and flowing to the erratic beat of my own heart
I sat beneath the tree of me thirty two rings, some thick, more lean. A centre core, a maypole of happiness and not
I sat beneath the tree of me cradled by roots dug deep. wispy wind wiggling my hair comfort in all of me
I sit beneath my ageing tree on a blanket far too large. "You're welcome" I'd say to passersby to sit with me a while.
My meditation place, on a green hillock surrounded by more little green hillocks.
An empire, built on Extreme empathy. Welcomes in the parasite of its own demise Feeds the anarchy with the cornerstones of its ethics. Tears down it’s moral walls so as not to offend it’s destruction Lies with blank smiling eyes, eviscerated in the street. Good thing, good thing we were so woke.
Today I'm filled with muted optimism Something not often seen skulking around my peripheral. Some retail therapy and a ***** free day.
I write you blinded, literally, consumerism blaring, shining RED in my eye. My new shoes and sparkly chemical incentives sitting comfortably on my feet and in the back of my skull respectively
you know? Just above my nape.
The weekend is over. That person has left, incised from delicate parts where hurt feels more justified than starving children and diseased refugees, "oh so woe is me" avoided.
We shouldn't have gone skiing together, the snow was far from ready. The passengers leapt from the derailing train, terrified of sludgy wet slopes.
This time around I won't let them come so close. Stiff arm, no more than three. No more poems for you, or freedom for me.
I felt like putting my rambling brain onto a screen. Its not meant to make sense, my brain rarely does.
There’s a place we should not go Where white snow falls and foxes dive in, head first. The trains that go there do not stop. Their brakes are cracked useless things. Their fuel is limitless. The lever is set to full speed. It’s not an easy train to disembark from. Not for want or for not wanting. I’m of the latter currently. Though I knew boarding this train would send me there. I got on anyways. Now I’ll just enjoy the ride. Have a little ski, perhaps even become a fox.
Let’s just say the weekend was rough, raucous and completely unforgettable.
I don’t like this sit. It sits in strange ways. Left cheek tingles, right cheeks numb foots gone drowsy, other ones fast asleep The stand brings a stumble, a drunken lurch My feet rouse quickly, but not my ***.
Who welcomed you into dreams Of church fairs and rugby games? Who asked you to sit there At the table like we were still friends? Who asked you to toast with us to the future and couples and tequila shots? Who? I’ll cut them out too
I swam the sea Manmade fish with rubber fins and glass eyes It wasn’t difficult to breath Quite the contrary I witnessed wonders of man & mother Bejewelled sealife amongst statues of stone Sunken artistry, seaplanes and Poseidon A lady of rock, the Ocean Atlas Holding up the sky from beneath the waves. The Bahama Mama casting a gentle eye over her domain Tomorrow maybe more.
Went snorkelling amongst the statues of Clifton heritage park. Followed By *** on jaws beach.