That savoury love,
That familiar comfort, a home cooked meal.
The reliable morning texts and midday calls
My warm, rounded, sleepy belly.
That sweet love,
That longed for joyful treat, my childlike excitement
The tender kiss on my forehead
My wonderment, my gentle hope for more
That sour love,
That acrid seizure, my face contorted in shock The lingering invisible betrayal
My confused tastebuds, their longing for dissipation
That bitter love,
Those biting words, our requited animosity
The weaponising of our failings
My aggrieved mouth and her repugnant venom.
That hot love,
The picnic of your mouth by the ocean
The heated liminality before each kiss
Our frenetic and impermanent fire.

Tidal Heart.
Not coveting nor conquering
As much grasping a reckless shore as lost to the feral depths.
Tidal heart of mine,
as much bursting light at the seams, as ice cold hubris.
My warm friend
My cold friend
A contradictory lover And an inconsistent foe
My honest and two left footed tidal heart with her syncopated solitude.
This is fate for me.

Ifl stay a nervous bud
my bloom does not encroach upon the grandeur of another & I will invite no retribution,
Though an artist knows that a whole field in bloom polinates the world.
If l stay silent
my words cannot be smithed into a weapon of censure, and be used to cut me into smaller pieces,
Though a poet may take my words & alchemise them into an elixir for healing
If smother my fire
I inspire no deadly ire from neighbouring Suns for whom my shine is a punishable theft of thunder,
Though a sister moon may mirror my light and illuminate the next.
If I stay in my armour
my vulnerability cannot become the missile launched at me by the traitor who begged for my truth
Though an ally may revere my courage
and meet it with the vulnerability of their own open heart.

Ephemeral winter
Dead grass & springs flowers at her feet.
The bees are making honey while the rot gets ate by flies.
No betterment of heart in a body full of lies.

Rush.
Rush if you must
Rush toward solve-r-ism to a mirage of resolution and fleeting solution.
Rush if you must to evade the friction that gives spark to life.
Rush if you must
to spurious absolution.
To the death of art.

While the bridges are all burning the *** is spilling muck
Theatre for the lemmings as the critics pass the buck
A histrionic kingdom, we’re ruled by feeble mind
While we line up for our trophy, at the killing-line

The pendulum swung again
vertigo is taking hold
The pendulum swung again
The people do as they’re told

You say you hold the keys
To the higher plane
But as the hologram glitches
The goal post shifts again

The pendulum swung again
vertigo is taking hold
The pendulum swung again
People do as they’re told

And the people do as they’re told
And the people do as they’re told

The birds were telling me something about freedom and danger today.

I tried to understand.

Something about how a bird without a home may feel lost, not free.

That freedom needs a place to go to ground, to rest.

Otherwise freedom may feel like flying circles over an ocean with no land in sight.