i'll keep you safe
legs on legs, breath mixing breath
until joint death

you are my bonsai
focus of devotion, the one treasure
close to forever

sweetness of your eyes
hot lemonade lips, you promise hope
a kiss-infused kaleidoscope

the trouble lies
in your thighs
plump skin, of pink, apricot, nutmeg
fresh flesh fetched far
taught to knee, cuffed at ankle
red carpet to round hips
they ripple, as you stomp
as they should
you're a peach bottomed girl of pear tree house

she is a willow girl
her legs, they wind
country lanes that slim and thin
less lard, longer length
one music note to pink, apricot, nutmeg toes
pillars under sacred, upholding
the light twist of hips
is there the same problem
does it there lie
in that girl's thighs?

your thighs are equally moulded
pink, apricot, nutmeg
soft and plump and trembling, still
in mountains, or molehills
you're a peach bottomed girl of pear house
she is a willow tree girl of birch place
together, women
you have thighs
and neither of
those thighs
lies

his t-shirt
it is warm around my body
where he would be
if he could be
and its smell rises upwards
and he
holds me invisibly
under cloth
within our night

a girl found a crown on the street
clink, clank, and rolling to her feet
cold gold touched her pinkish toes-
during inspection the jewels bit her nose

she wore it all day long, in strength
found her chores list lessen in length
people blinded by it's brilliant glint
it gleamed eyes away, replaced the print

each precious stone reworked memories
envious green glass once enemies
now pink, mirrored, singular, hers
to match the crown, she wore silver furs

her cloak dragged upon the ground
other children picked it up, and found
themselves wrapped inside and gone
the village became smaller, the cloak became long

the elders dug deep at the edge of their home
while the girl was away, living alone
they discovered bones, gnawed to stumps
bugs and beetles, full, in mounds and humps

they fit the girl's old clothes perfectly
renewed dead flesh, but hurtfully
her eyes were gone, the crown's centrepiece
the flesh left again, puddled their knees

the girl had died and was eaten, long ago
it took some time, they cried, but now we know
the metal melted her fat and skin and sinew
pock-marked her bones, rotted right through

replaced a monster with her spirit, living dead
used her soul as the cloak's first thread
vacuumed others, knitted them close and thick
a pretty trinket turned poisonous trick

the elders chased the monster away
along with their children, that day
they cried and created new children, then
never let them wander again.

Smoke left to curl against the sky
Toes crinkled under shoes
Funnelled out and contemplating
All he had to lose

She had left and flown as whispers leave
The lips of those who hush
An atlas crushed unto her *******
No guilt of burning trust

Bitter had she left him
Like the dregs from PG-Tips
And, burned into his memory,
Her swaying, leaving hips

His anchor was stripped away
He was flotsam in a sea
He shuffled out and left the edge
"Nothing now, for me."

and you have irises
whose colours shall bleed
and mix in genes
trickling into your children
morphed into flesh and bone from
***** and blood
and skin colours clash and blend
to form their coverage
but it will have to get tougher
tough skin
if they want to stop harsh words
from sinking in
words launch from tongues of people who forget
that they are part of a colour pallet
this world is a messy, disorganized dance
and colours run and blend
and each is beautiful
and no one is superior
generations of ink and paint and chalk travelled the world
blossomed into culture
different climates, different patterns
same scientific formula
so these people need to stop
with only thinking of themselves
and realise that we are all under one ruling
breathe the same elements
and there is no room for a higher shelf
and our duty to each other is
to always give our help
no matter what

A dust storm blows through Kansas
Stinging, lashing shrieks
The sand blows holes through a Canvas
Who collects the words, and sleeks
The gunfire of their sound, for weeks
His brows steeled and heavy
The whirlwind quits its wails
And leaves, lily-livered in its belly

A tsunami bellows over Mastushima bay
Body slamming into townsfolk
A long-time build up lead astray
One sun-browned girl is left to choke
But then spits out the damage, in half broke
And the colossal wave recedes
Quietened, calm and apologetic
Anger fleeing as it bleeds

Snow drifts and crawls its way past Moscow
Gentle, almost alluring in its ways
Children present their tongues, and the sow
Charges, squealing, into guts and begins frays
Which twist their ears burnt, lasting for a thousand days
And eventually a conscience melts the qualm
And the damage rectified on-surface
But frostbite clings to fingers; done already is the harm

Weather will hound and scorch and spit
And eventually untether
And though people bite and kick and hit
No emotion lasts forever

her dress is made of molten ore
silk against her springy skin
her eyes are pressured pebbles of summer core
nine hundred lives from wearing thin
the scarf she wound around her hips
softer than a lamb
the teeth behind upturned boat lips
smile graceful and pre-planned
she extends her long, slender wrist
coaxes us all into one mineral
a tender jewel, a pretty twist
worn until her funeral

the jaded bird took his perch
in branches thick with voice
his song a croak, his beak quite broke
a lovely sight, though unlovely noise

a plumed up bird, dressed in furs
cut into his space
she sang quite sweet, high and neat
sang right into his face

the jaded bird, of course, was hurt
by that most spiteful act
he moaned in pain, never sang again
until a finger tapped his back

a timely toad, brown and slowed
eyes blinking with slime
opened his mouth, north to south
and took his merry time

he sang a sound that squelched around
his throat before release
then he bellowed loud, and sore and proud
and the bird fell to his knees

the toad taught the bird, who listened, who heard
who was patient, feathers bristling
they sang together, sung for forever
and never cared about who was listening

she awoke one morning to find wings upon her back
spread out across the length of her room
she had trouble getting out of the door
and every room she left and house she exited
she knocked things askew
destroyed more and more

she met a boy down-town of a similar strange sort
he was covered, every single last inch of him
in crawling, hugging spiders
his face was obscured and his tongue black
as he spoke, more came from his throat
fatter, hairier, wider

they fled together to a beach where a big bonfire sat
and around, for hundreds, in the fog, were others
others like them; outsides varied, insides same
there were some with wings too, the girl saw
but all stopped what they were doing as a sound was heard
and eyes turned toward the colossal flame

the people sat and gathered at the fire's base, close-knit
she linked arms with an old man with tears pouring from each wrinkle
and a little girl made of air
this crowd watched, enraptured for hours like moths
until the bonfire spluttered, stuttered, went to sleep
and wrote in the charcoal left: 'despair'

the boy with the spiders took her aside; his hands tickled
he bade the girl to wade out with him, into the swash
which giggled beseechingly at her toes, flecked with frost
the crowd of the beach overheard, and together they all joined
to slink into the fog and ocean depths united
to become, like the people of the night before them:
eternally lost.

the butterflies bubble, dawdle, build up
homes underneath the skin, as she looks at him
as he looks at him
as she looks at her
as they look to each other

cocooning between blood vessels and pulses
their wings spread as intoxication, renovation
hands reach up
for him
for her
and stars are plucked and presented

they are the stars that first looked around the space
and came to rest, upon the ignorant, beautiful breast
of him, of her
from his eyes
from her eyes
and they glitter, and flutter

the chemical pours through the muscles and the butterfly
blooms, takes wing at hill-start, straight to heart
physical
spiritual
infinitely wonderful
for him, for her, for them, and for forever

curling around each other
like two shells pushed, intertwined
by the thrashing waves.

the sheets were crisp, now
they are slept on, rumpled, a white Sahara
from a birds-eye-view

a leg moves up a leg, shifting hills
hand roaming over curves, in crooks, through hairs
travelling fingers on a familiar space

warm, aging, with lines where
the flesh was once plump and new, unused
undiscovered by the other

days after days, through years and years
in that bed, coupled, through seasons, in and out of clothes
each change subtly accepted

every kiss shared, every entwining
kept boxed in the duvet, imprints of every evening
or day spent here

pressing close, bodies and souls
laced in the tightest, toughest, inseparable knot
clenched together

the mirrored smiles, low breathing
domed, encased there, while the atmosphere outside billows
lying forever

To me your smile is a sign
a sign that makes me flutter
makes my knees soft as butter
sets my lips prime to stutter
no sentence can I utter
except perhaps a mutter
words revolved in clutter
something along the lines of
mine

Feel my breath adorn your stiffened shoulders
Now your cloak, as thick as heavy satin
Beneath ruby black sleeves your skin smoulders
From tattoos inked in my red-lipped Latin
Our songs are pressurized into jewels
I place the lovely earrings on your lobes
That stern gaze I taught you won't suffer fools
Nor entertain hissing genophobes
My precious mineral complexion acts
As the speckled fur underneath your crown
Tenuous heart strings of mine set their traps
And from my throat queue the trumpeting sound
Hold still, stand up proud, bare that throat fresh blue
Take the steps - and thus I coronate you

with a hair tuck the atoms bent
to curl in a loop around her ear
compressed into a snaking stream
of custard comets, pouring down
her neck, over collar bones, passed
the ribcage made of gold limestone
holding grains of sparrows eggs turned
to sand, from ten thousand years ago

seeping into skin, grey fake tan of
statues, mountains, ocean beds alike
the ache in the pulse at her wrist from
the steady thrum injection of the worlds
squeezed, twisted, turned and churned
into a potion, a medicinal miracle, a fine
powder substance that grows at liquid's
touch.

dripping through her palms, fingertips
to create a stain upon the sugar paper
flesh of others, like a children's picture
turned tattoo in highlighted colour and
sound, drumming into ears, road works
on the way to the brain, cause a migraine
cells screeching to infiltrate all they touch
bred, genetically modified, embitterment
of the human race, a flawless system of
this, that, none other, its aim to destruct
befores and reconstruct them differently
against the wishes of the girl who calmly
indifferently, lazily, unknowingly, seductively
tucked that lock of hair behind her ear.

moondust: i take some, pour it
down my throat.

the sensations fill my stomach.
i release a powder of knowing
with every breath

stardust: i hold some, drizzle it
into my hair

it dries my scalp to concrete
sets my hair golden, fizzing, spitting
burnt from tip to root

sundust: i taste some, keep it
nestled on my tongue

biting into my cheeks, exploding
blinding me inside out, nuclear and archaic
stuck in my teeth

earthdust: i rub some, all over
my body won't react

clay shell, molluscs, squirming skin
plants sprout from my fingernails, eyelashes
my neck covered

spacedust: i kiss some, light lips
my cheeks clench

it dusts my eyelids, pretty, multi-coloured
turns my belly-button into a black hole
i take in everything.

I breathed, and with my breath
gave birth, again and again and again.
My lungs housed planets
which flew from my lips
to rest in a space not too far from the nest
of infinity-wide hips.
I perfumed myself with the stardust
that lay about my shelves,
while my eyes wandered to the children
who kept their quiet and took their time
to build their lives away from mine.

Nine children: four boys, four girls-
One lonely in-between, the closest to my breast,
chilled by the distance from its father's heart.
My third child, of the cleanest hue
leapt bounds ahead the others, covered
white, green and blue.
If the others are jealous, they never say so
for their silence is their virtue,
their mystery their status.
But, despite her siblings' monarchy glamour,
it was my third baby, who became a mother.

I paint my nails with the polish given
as gifts from my un-answering offspring.
They throw me pieces of their atmosphere
to wear around my neck,
and I accept all these gifts with gratitude,
glad they exercise respect.
My third child sends me probes, satellites,
and sends rocket ships to her uncle.
Her children thrive and mine her body,
and she sits daintily, between her sister and her brother,
allowing them to farm her so; her duty as a mother.

As I age, the wrinkles of my skin deepen, and
occasionally, something far away collapses.
I find I age better than their father; better than
all the fathers that came ahead.
I have always outlasted them.
I will never lie upon a deathbed.
It is my duty as their mother to watch
as my babies eventually perish.
Aged well, aged strong, dramatic endings.
But such is life, and such am I, and I am always law-
and after death comes life again, multitudes and more.

-and the dark seems profound
in the corners of crooks of building's elbows
they cradle that which they have found
stray cats
flown litter
happy ivy

sentient, but quietly, built to stand and shine
the streetlights are the only soldiers
but they glow indiscriminate, haloing crime
tonight, none
they see
me go

red carpet, grey glistening black, bone slabs
cigarette buds lie, my roses
and chills scuttle in the underbrush, hard biting *****
the night
doesn't seem
so frightful

whisper this, over and over, louder than the sea
which crashes, as is its business
but no one is awake to hear it, none but me
constellations glow;
their cities
are alive

away in the custard ink of our unknown space
Mercury, Venus, Mars, Jupiter, Saturn, Uranus...Pluto
dance, smoother than an apparatus reflection, emotion in face
wishing my
eyes could
be telescopes

metals, dirt, bone and fur, gas and water and soul
cocktail elements, curved, twisted, moulded
our perfect globe, full, awake, but- within the solar pole
we are
so tiny
and lonesome

our companions of the sky, past our eyes, kept curtained
by the dark which so cradles in crooks as the sun slips
explored mechanically, unknown personally, unburdened
but the
stars are
our proof

of family.
from them.

you played our song
in the aftermath of a heated discussion between close, close
lips and tongues

you were taller there
and I was tucked beneath you, in the crook of your arm and chest
warm and immovable

our song struck its notes
and together we sang it, both voices barely reaching audience
but in such clarity to our ears

only my voice caught
about halfway through, as I thought of you, and where we were headed
to the end of our lives, I hoped

and I sobbed to
the crook of your neck, in joyous foresight of our years as two to come,
racking my breast

you were worried
my tears scared you, in case I cried for reasons of hurt to my heart, but
my heart only hurt

because it was close
to bursting with overwhelming feeling, spilling over, a flood, a tidal wave
streaming from my eyes

my gratitude to
your existence, to any God for granting me you, your warm body and
freckled flesh

a hundred thousand
knives of love slammed through my ribs, into yours, turned to needles, sew
us into forever

I want to do
it all with you; the growing, adulthood, children, a house, our futures
I want them combined

till you wrinkle
and your freckles sink, and I kiss them with lined lips, and smile with
old eyes at you

for the longest time
possible, and I feel this is not just a hope, but a certainty, and that this
is what life is for me

and that is what
made me sob, into your body, and deeper still, because I know my life
is set with you

and how can I
be happier? than in the moment when I realised this, like being dunked
in the coldest water

it is a certainty
and I cried for it, for I know I am fulfilled, even in that one brief moment
of our youngest years

youth does nothing
to stem the flow of tears, it provides the richest nutrition, and I am not blind
but eyes wide open

my fairytale exists
and he is warm, bone and blood and beating soul, beside me, and I know
he is forever

and the way you
held me while I cried, and carried on existing, a certain smell and quietly
living, is how

I know our
connection is more than any can understand, and you squeezed back
as I clutched your hand

like the transition from work clothes
into nightwear, good book in hand
like slipping, trembling, into bed after a hard day and
being overwhelmed with warm slumber
sinking into the mattress
pillowed, soft, safe and caressed
- thats how I feel, held close to your breast

a hotpot over a stove, cinnamon steam
rising, curling, condensation at windows
reflecting black and illuminating snow
drifting, heavy, while the chill waits outside the door
and the house breathes heartily
and the cat curls up even more-so
- thats how it feels when your arms wrap around my torso

the northern lights dance just for us
and the sahara sands swirl
the oceans, each seven, perform and twist
in our honour; countless
clouds serenade our connection
a tornado blows through Kansas, just to see us closer
and mountains smile, and bow from their hips
-thats what I see when you kiss my lips

and all the cosmos
floats in your irises
colour kaleidoscopes, the genes of ink to water droplets
stains on paper skin, the prettiest of each
character of you, and
from the pool of my gut bursts forth a constant trillion butterflies
- thats what can be seen when I look to your eyes

it just feels so easy to love you
it was so easy falling in love with you

-and we were sat
in front of the sea
illuminated in moony streetlights
watching the silver worm of the swashing waves
inky black except for that contact

and across the water
distant lights shone, red, yellow, white
fast food commercialised with the big yellow M
sitting in our laps
the night cold, and we two shivering
although we both refuse to be warmed by the other's coat

and our song plays
and I look to you
sat by me on the cold bench
you, physical, mass, warm and breathing
you existing
and the song carries on

our mistakes, they were bound to be made,
but I promise you I'll keep you safe

and I do promise
because you are there
breathing next to me
and you exist
and that's all I need