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Andrea Cullen Dec 2012
Melancholic misadventures and misanthropic moments make meeting men more and more meaningless,
Meaning less and less to those who undress to convene in the act of adulterated ***.


Flex:
Point!

Sit down,
Smoke a joint,
Go to sleep,
Work,
Eat,
Wash

(sometimes, not too often)
Feign attraction
and smile with your eyes as you die on the inside

Darkness outside


Whilst wintery winds whistle,
the worldly-wise whittle on and on in their wordy way of the other-worldly wonders they have witnessed.

We can but wish that their wily whispers will soon diminish with the melting snow
Or else go,
Turn your back on all that you lack before you step on a crack, break that back and see it refract through the prism of the microcosm of your mind

Colour-blind

Lost

Trying to find


Be found

My heart beats yet I hear no sound
As plasma pumps passionately through my pallid passages and I ponder partially perceptible pursuits that preside in my past

Digging deep down into the depths of my ***** deeds discloses a discerning dichotomous divulgence of doctrine and dogma

Two mothers
Three brothers
One sister
And a whole load of Misters!
Andrea Cullen Oct 2012
Susurrus semantics once flowed between us like a river,
meandering and weaving, lapping, often gushing,

Now we sit muted, surrounded by the noise of rivers belonging to others.

Their rivers trickle empty crests of words
to and fro,
                                        ebb and flow.

Are our whispered words muted by your intoxication?
Or has this music come to drown out the vanity of words?

I smile to ****** you,
                                                 in vain.

You’re elsewhere, somewhere happy I bet.

Speak to me!
Take me to where you are!

The music amplifies my audible introspection.
I feel alone, surrounded by all of these empty rivers.

We smoke,
our once fluid flowing flares up with the fume.

We laugh.

You smile.

But your smile soon subsides with the stars in your eyes and once again
I’m alone

with only paranoia present.
Andrea Cullen Dec 2012
Silence resonated
Ear-drums react
Kindness demonstrated
Stille Mitternacht

Weinachten ist vorbei
Noel est parti
Shred the wrapping paper!
Limp, lifeless tree
Andrea Cullen Dec 2012
As my preconceived dreams unfold in your kaleidoscope eyes
and my mind endeavours to decipher the reasons why
our paths have collided,
bright colours provided
in powder form allow you to avoid the awkward questions we are about to ponder,
so that we are left with opportunities to psychedelically wonder or else sleep
which may seem meek
but we must remember:
despite all intoxication and inebriation
and manifestations of truth and unity
and all things pure, you see
Without impurity there would be no balance
and I would be less-challenged
So be happy with your less than perfect image of all that you might not be
And set yourself free, rest assured in the knowledge that you are courage
And no matter how big, or small, or not-enough-grown,
You are, to me, as vast as the sea and all it has encompassed
As expansive as space but with all the home comforts
And we will be love but not as we have known it
Which can only be good
Because up until now it’s been hard to truly show it!
Andrea Cullen Oct 2012
A mind hinged on trickery:
Eyes tight shut whilst their tongues licked me;
Bent right over, looking up,
Allowed them to drink from my half-empty cup

Agreed not to do it again,
Allow myself to be fooled by them
Love was *** so *** was love
Not much guidance from those above

Daily grind,
Suddenly eyes less blind,
started to open up and see inside of my mind

I didn’t see him coming,
but then I wasn’t really looking
Running full speed with my eyes blind shut,
frantically half-looking for a way out of the rut

Daily grind,
Suddenly eyes less blind,
started to open up and see inside of my mind

Opened right up
staring into my half-full cup
Even fuller than before
And through the closed window: an open door
A door to a secret
A secret so clear
A door to the answer and away from my fear

Daily grind,
Suddenly eyes less blind,
I've opened up my mind and looked inside
I have nothing to hide!
Andrea Cullen Feb 2013
I found you, lost
Always-never-winning, loser
Yesterday I tried to dream but reality is drawing closer
False realities shade truthful colour
True reflections show no other
I found you, lost
Always-never-winning

You found me, sung
Always-ever-striving, singer
Tomorrow sees dream revealed but love empty tends to linger
Broken promises obscure good intent
Repeated mistakes seek to relent
You found me, sing
Always-ever-striving
Andrea Cullen Sep 2012
He came from a land unrefined;
Encompassed by violence, poverty yet possesses clarity of mind.
A mind built from Hardwork and Determination,
A soul inspired by Intrepidation
Freedom, Release and an infectious sense of inner Peace.


They met in a state of flux,
Going, coming, nothing left but to give it up,
So heart broken, she took his hand,
The adventure began on water but would end on land,
Meadows, Beaches, Visions left them speechless.


She saw a flash, a light;
Precautionary measures tested the capacity of his might.
Slow Down! She'd lost sight.
Tried to keep up but her heart said "Flight"!
Escape! Hide from the cruelty clawing from the inside.


Time was chasing, they had to keep up,
He left as she collapsed into the mouth of a half empty cup.
She gobbled up the cup with no thought of tomorrow.
"He is strong, he'll be fine," focus deflected from sorrow.
Regret, Remorse, shall Fate be trusted to run it's course?


Smiles and Mischief were all that could remain,
She slowly began to learn to becloud fruitless pain,
She's walked away from tough stains,
In memory of his arms where enthusiasm never wanes.
Growing, longer, when he returns she shall be stronger.


If Fate knows Love and Love is true,
Fate shall be entrusted to do what it do,
But Fate can be twisted, Fate can be cruel
And the little girl knew the twisted Power of Fate's Rule
Andrea Cullen Sep 2012
I come from a silly idea


I come from running away, wanting to stay, not knowing the way

I come from choo-choo trains, My Little Pony manes, and a book of baby's names

I come from wetting the bed,

I come from sharp pains in the head to darkness and bright pills

To bright light


From passionate nights with him and him and him

I come from within

without doubt

I come from my mum

I come from a finger in my ***!

I come from beauty and deceit

I come whole yet incomplete

I come from smelly feet


I come from you, the I-don't-know-who

I come from books and looks and regretful *****

I come from mistakes,

I come from misinterpretation,

I come from "Miss! I don't understand!"

I come from a faraway land to here.


I come from a silly idea.
A poem written in response to the title "I come from..."
Andrea Cullen Feb 2013
I tried to reach you; gone too late
gone as is our love, gone with the winds of fate
I tried to teach you; once then twice
one two many ears closed to advice
I tried to touch you; soft and hard
head already weary, heart already marred
I tried to clutch you; loose too tight
haggard by purpose, limp with blight
I tried to feel you; fathom then grasp
grains of sand in the hand that escapes the clasp
I tried to heal you; no pill nor vial
******-hypochondriac living in denial!
Andrea Cullen Sep 2012
A creation of imperfection
Without infection, so no need for protection
But that man he had me vexin' when there was no need for perplexin'
Just reflection.

Reignite the light in this deep, dark hole
But it was already too cold,
I was feeling old, not so bold.
Tried my best to fit the mould of your world,
Be that untouchable girl that you wanted me to be.
But you see, this girl needs touch,
Not too much,
Just enough to get by,
Avoiding having to lie,
And needing him to try not get too high 'cos, I don't want to die.

But sometimes it felt that way,
The words we'd make each other say,
Arguing tomorrow, ******* today
Fumbling our way through a life, full of strife
But also potential.
Endless potential...

So why let go?

Well things move on and you've got to stay strong 'cos after all there's not that much wrong.
I have my own bed, my own head
An iron fist, full of lead, ready to pound, trying to find the sound
But the sound it found me
And now I'm where I wanna be,
In another man's arms, sure
But he isn't the cure
Just a friend to lend a hand when things don't quite turn out the way you planned.
And this isn't what I planned.
Andrea Cullen Sep 2012
And so, there he stood, transparentised  by the lies that have entangled our lives and brought down

Our Skies.

And through him I see me,

I see a girl I promised not to be

Again, Again, Again

and now it's the end and I'm saying sorry for things for which I have already apologised,

We even tried to compromise, find a way around the sly, deceiving, misleading lies.


But somewhere along the way he lost me,

Unable to be the man I needed him to be,

Worn down by my consistent cruelty.

A cruelty born from love, out of fear,

A cruelty not at all present right here,

A cruelty from within, born from sin and pain and personal gain and now loss.


Lost.


Gone but not forgotten, decomposing not yet rotten and before me lays a new life and I'm just not sure

where I slot in.


Not scared of being alone no more,

He made me strong enough to realise that life alone is worth fighting for.


Alone?


Life alone

is worth fighting for?



And now

toute seule

I realise I am still a little girl trying to be a grown up,

It wasn't easy but now I can own up:


I am just a little girl
Andrea Cullen Oct 2012
In boots without holes,
And a soul whole,
I’m ready to roll
Into an infinity of possibilities and eccentricities of simplicity.

I feel fit you see,
To dive head-on into a new song while the melody remains unwritten.

I’ll uncap, uncurl and uncoil into this scoreless spring of my existence,
Keeping an ear to the ground for hints from a distance,
Rejoice in my own valiance of overcoming that dark beast.

I am the animal, unleashed!

And I shall place my cautious paw in spaces where only good has strode before.
Short of saying more:

I feel set free, at ease and eager to please.
From my head to my knees I feel able to achieve dreams I am yet to conceive.

And all this from release!
Relinquish and re-grow!
Andrea Cullen Sep 2012
Entangled in action that I knew was wrong
Yet plead ignorance to what’s going on,
As the song I’m singing hurts my ears,
Fills me with fears that I promised would not distress me again.

Again

Again

Until another us reaches another end.
Speeding up now.
I know not the whys, just the hows.
Ive seen inside and there’s no pride, just a ****** reality to hide the lies
Or so-called half-truths: whole lies disguised in demise,
Hidden behind my dark, sultry, convincing eyes.

So now, for truth.
Truth I must share as proof that I loved you,
Love me:

There was nothing above you
But light and learning which stunted this yearning for greedy pleasures,
At least for a while,
Hid behind a smile.
Buried at the back of a shared cupboard,
Nestled at the top of a tree in a secret wood
That I’ve struggled to find again
So, no wonder you couldn’t.
I knew that i shouldn’t.
Not just for us, but for me, for my own sanity
I had lost a-aaall clarity,
Needed a man,
His touch,
You see?

Touching.

Fleeting.

Empty strokes from a boy I knew no more,
Scurried down stairs to call you curled up on the floor.
Cried into your tee shirt as he closed the door.
I’m not going to tell you any more.
I know you’ve played it in your mind a hundred times already.
Before, please believe our love was pure.
Andrea Cullen Sep 2012
This "Transparency" is a fallacy
That comes from intimacy
With lack of clarity...

One must not  profess
To know what's best
When your trials and errors
Are yet to stand the test
Of Time

Tick tock
Trying to ride a wave
But your ship wants to dock

So stop
Take it in
Ask where you're going to
Forget where you've been

Take all your mistakes
And whatever it takes
To our lake of Freedom
A co-created kingdo
Andrea Cullen Feb 2013
Broken footsteps dart in and out of shadows
A voice in the distance considers itself hallow
Brave, empty words pleading for forgiveness
Repeat
Retreat

Warm caresses in a light born new
Notches on a bedpost with nothing else to do
Soft tender words promise forever
Believe
Retrieve

Heart weary aches for torment
Closed doors and corridors: naught left to vent
Formless silences cling to nothing
Bring
Sing

A song for the lonely
One for the not-so-proud
A song for him only
Hanging silence sings loud
Andrea Cullen Aug 2013
Philoxenic appetence
                                Misplaced
Disproportionate benevolence
                                               Dissipate
Myself: an object, given away
A transient drifter with always somewhere to stay


Exuberant sorrow ever-wishing to deject
                    Distortion
Deception duplicates
A heart burnt black
Focussed on the lacking, unable to bounce back


Mouths to feed
Needy hands grapple to extract
No fact needed
Smoky contortion
Inhaled greedily

Ready for the downfall
Open to the wind
Upward spirals shy away from the world they crave
Mischievous nymphs dance merrily on a stage,
Unmade
Then lay down to cradle their babes


Slaves to the slovenly
Behaviour of unrest
I know they’re trying hard but is it their best?
Sing a song of sixpence, your fingers in my pie
Life is not serious
We’re all destined to die
                 High.
Andrea Cullen Oct 2012
A rose in a vegetable patch
Full of beauty, professing love and an intoxicating belief of eternity.
An easy catch from a gentle fall that had been a long time coming.
A strange match of convention, unlawful struggle and a softly spoken warning to the danger of muddled paths.
But paths cannot always be unwound, unfounded love that knew no bounds until it broke.
Soft words left unspoken in place of happy memories broken so often without sense, desire, need.

Alone.

Two Feet.

Two strong, smelly feet craving love but perhaps needing to walk their path alone.
A path less travelled where smiles and promises bob above the surface of a thick lake swamped in envy.

A logic-defying envy fuelled by love?

A love lost?

A love forgotten?

The last one.
Andrea Cullen Feb 2013
Caged in a prison, high on a hill, actions ensued but didn’t quite fit the bill
Words of not-always transformed promises to forever,
Side by side, naught to hide,
despite the cloudy weather
A friend, a rock, a ship almost wrecked was looking to dock

Alone in the harbour, under the moonlight,
Ashamed,
The half-wreck shone bright for what it was famed.
Tough stains were covered, remains left undiscovered to be smothered by another
Heart still full of what was before, keen, loveful pursuers already knocking at the door

Cabin wide open: “Ahoy mateys! Ahoy!”
She soon set sail with the innocent boy.
Tides were rolling on peacefully by, some of them were low tides but mainly they were high,
When in need there was a shoulder upon which to cry
And the girl thought the boy would help her get by.

Way out at sea on a tropical isle the boy showed the girl daemons not seen in a while
Opened her up and dove right in, illustrated the flaws of reacting to whims
Open
Broken
Alone at sea,
the boy turned his back as she fell to her knees

Floundering, drowning, thrashing in the waves
The girl succumbed to what her daemon craves
Underwater tears remain unobserved
A not-so-sly Fox spoke of acts undeserved
An unsure girl, curled up, abashed
Covered up the act and watched her daemon be tamed

A ship in the darkness, a ship under the stars
Saved the girl and craved the girl and hoped she knew right
And Oh! How she flourished in this dependable new light
“Love and peace, me mateys!”: a new reason to fight

The boy on his island, soon to return,
Will see that the shipwreck upon which they met, though
not
yet
quite
perfect
Trawls the coast to find an isle of its own
And though different to first-envisaged, Bristol shall be its home.
Andrea Cullen Dec 2012
Ducking behind trees and dropping to my knees to avoid you
Scouring leafy fields and trawling whole cities to find you
So that I can help you rewrite and be the you that you want to be but
who were you before me? And
do you really need me?

How?

I want to awaken you to the you that you are Now
Because
you are only half of what I hope we could be.

Am I a muse to you?
Do I unuse you?
Can I amuse you enough to give up on this love?
Eat me up
dive inside of my heart
tear it apart and find me
I am yours to take apart and put back together, however

I love you!
But need you to love you too.
See you and me
As ones, or twos or even three.
Andrea Cullen Sep 2012
Confusing messages of misadventured youths

"The best mistake ever made" to her

A carefully played plan to another her

Yet always surrounded by unfailing encouragement, the labour government and an inherent love for royalty.



A red, velvet curtain opened on a child growing from seedling to tree

And in turn took from that tree its very leaves,

But only through inquistiveness,

No malice, despite the lies.

Truth prevailed when the bird was caught which demonstrates a sense of good, I thought.



Renegaded, so rebelled,

Parental issues yet to be dispelled become increasingly difficult through distance.

Dance daddy: a fabricated memory seen through a sister's eyes.

Close but not so close that we touch because after this long that'd probably be a little much.

                                                                                              

First love,

LOOK LOVE!

Next love,

**** LOVE!

**** love hard in the ***, **** them to make them love you and hope it'll pass

**** FOREVER!



Stop.

Breathe.

Explore.


Open your mind and look inside.

Try not to hide from the eyes that want to see you,

Be You!

Try to understand you!

Peel your bleeding fingers from your sodden face and let you in.
                                                                                              


Incessant chatting in a circle of moon-eyed 'lovers'.

Mutinies, epiphanies, breakfast with balloon families,

Lest we forget the lies,

Ducking,

Diving,

More *******,

Skiving,

Writhing,

Without Guilt,

Much to everyone else's dismay!

He loves you, they'll say

But it didn't work out that way.

That one, he wasn't strong

And when things went wrong, he'd hit a ****.

And I'd disappear with the smoke

A nice bloke, just not for me.


And so, love number three

A write, a poet,

Inner turmoil, didn't show it.

Left home and ran but this one he took my hand,

And I'd open up his windows with the curtains closed.

Retrieve this wondrous creature from his pit of self-doubt.

And that inner-turmoil?

I think it came out.

The story doesn't end there,

But right now that's all I'm willing to share!

— The End —