As an art teacher,
I often explain to my students
the techniques behind creating contrast.
I explain how by making something
really, really light,
they can make the darkness all the more
I wonder if the same applies for vulnerability
(maybe I should teach science, considering how much I've left open to be dissected)
and if so, then I'm not sure I'll be brave enough to face the juxtaposition
oh what a position I'll be in
when the darkness finally catches up.
Only ever one step ahead.
I'm seeing a consistent theme in my poems as of late.
Much deliberation needs to occur, apparently.
When did we go
from short "hello"s sitting at gym tables,
to carved initials in date night tables?
from formal handshakes,
to slipping your hand into mine every time we wake throughout the night?
from nonchalant nods and casual smiles,
to melodramatic sulking on the couch
and cuddles that test just how much
of you I can hold all at once
curled up in a ball?
When did we go
from stilted conversation
to discussing the entirely vast pitfalls of the Australian education system
watching a Ted talk that-- SHH be quiet or we will miss this part!
When did we depart from the logical and begin navigating the magical?
from minimal communication
to domestic allocation
from "your house"
to "Let's go home. "
When did we cross the line of inhibitions?
it feels almost as if
we are slowly, gently,
teasing love out of each other
the footfalls of a timid deer
leaves crackle underfoot
but it doesn't *****
only ever moving closer
we lift each other higher
as if where we once were
is a devastating flood
both unwittingly escaping
I'm afraid to return to the water
I don't want to loosen my grip
for fear of falling
for fear of losing contact
I've only just learnt how to look you
in the eye...
Now we hold onto each other,
striving to reach new altitudes,
I choose you.
STOP BREATHING IN FIRE
you might be made of clay
but you're FULL of air bubbles
that life he breathes into you
will have an explosive end
and I'll be left to pick out the pieces
search through the kiln
sort out the rubble
and I'll have to explain to yet another sorrowful student
that their art was defective
the mirror doesn't seem to be listening when I try to teach it a lesson
what a silly student indeed
You need to stop swimming.
that drag on your foot
is only going to get stronger
when your arms tire
and you can move no longer
the current will take you
and you will learn
that the lifeguard
was only a cardboard cutout
glistening in the sun
a false beacon
with a love that grows soggy
with each passing wave
and with a groggy slur
you swallow mouthfuls of salty water
you will learn
too much of anything
will see you drown.
I should just avoid the water altogether, but I think I'm addicted to getting carried away. When I look down at the hands wrapped around me, holding me up, red hair billowing in the wind, it's finally clear that I'm the one carrying myself away.
Sometimes I just enjoy the act of writing
watching the loops of words
create worlds and wonders
queries that continue to loop in my subconscious
Will I ever come to a resolution, dear poets?
Is there ever a final destination
and do I even wish to find it?
Perhaps I shouldn't ask questions
that I don't desire to know the answers for.
I'll settle for repeating
what I've heard before
and refuse to lay down the tombstone
on the looping language of remorse.
Loving the aesthetic qualities of a handwritten poem, as of late.
It seems to be all fun and games
for when I reminisce on the day
the tame looks and words are amplified
pumping out a beat much louder than my body should be able to hear
yet I sway to the rhythm
drawn to the pulsating
reverence of the music
and as you pull me in for a kiss
captured for a moment by the visual farce that lies within your glasses
I see my face reflected back at me
I can't help but think that maybe
I don't love you
just enjoying a fresh perspective on loving myself.
I'm as terrified as I am exited.
I like you
I tried avoiding it
But I've been organising washing my hair around when I see you
So there's no denying it
The facts when laid bare
Read a clear tale
The silence before the storm
Has become the silence after a shower
When my ears still echo the thundering droplets
Competing with the hollow throbs of my own heart
In that moment before I slip under the covers
And discover that I do not enjoy the quiet
Or the back that remains etched in my memory
Perpetually turned away from me
Shapes shift in the bank that is my mind
Waves that slowly alter the shoreline
But remain ever so far away
With every passing breath
I drift further out to sea
Kissing goodbye to the idea of dry land
Which draws such tantalising 'scapes in the distance
Like the planes of a sculpted back
But built on sand
Each one falls through my fingertips when I reach for it
Their ears are full of the ocean
Vast and endless and deaf
Over the roar of the currents
I cannot be sure
that they will turn to me.
Just some reflections from my past and the seemingly endless nights of partners sleeping as far away from me as is possible.
there's a haze over her eyes
smoke fills her lungs
but instead of suffocating
she breathes in deeply
from the kiss of another
one whom she promised not to love
one who will be gone in three months
perhaps the only one she couldn't stand and yet simultaneously couldn't stand without
when his lips touch hers
it tastes of honey
she laps each one up
addicted to the feeling
of sugar pouring down her throat
a lifeline connected to the sweet nectar
that feeds her very being
it swirls with the smoke
leaving a bittersweet taste on her tongue
for she is addicted to a love
that has a pre-defined ending.
I know I won't be able to handle the dead end:
when I finally crash into it, pummelling at the pace of a thousand winning horses, with the verocity of mountainous waves smashing against the rock face,
without a doubt
I'll be left
The sale sign is up
And so are my feet
I know I'll be here for a while
I've stamped a discount sticker on my forehead
It's more a dare than a warning
Take me home for half the retail price
There's a few scratches and scuffs
A bit rough around the edges
There's been wearing and tearing
It says so right here on the box
Just so happens I've also lost the lock
That came with it
So you see
It's a little defected
But instead of being rejected
I won't tell a soul
That you stole a glance at me
Sitting on the sale rack
And thought you could rip off the 'special' tag
Never letting anyone know
That you got me
But you can palm me off
As a full price defect
No one will know
May we reconcile the tactility
recognise the fragility
and carry forward
if it can even be considered love-
a boy who listened to music that made him forget the world
and I've realised
that I listen to music that makes me feel it
Feel so full
I can't even fathom
how much he must have hated the world
to want to be numb to it
to skim through
just barely touching the edges of the pages
and claiming the book to be read
I'd rather be
eat all the novels in the world
devour every word until my stomach is bulging under the pressure
I'd happily go up three clothing sizes
to feel the fire exploding within me
despite the fact that
is far too small
to hold the load.
It's easier to feel everything else than tackle my own overloading demons, then pin it to empathetic ability, instead of avoidance.
go look at the time stamps
see the moments I stamped out my voice
escaped the incessant chatter
that my mind produces
see that now I am alone
how this place has become
my one true comfort
I once wrote a poem describing how when I'm silent, it means I'm happy.
Go look at the time stamps.
I catch feelings
like it's a disease
that I must disinfect
and I pour all this hate
into destroying it
How could you let me
How dare you infect me
I'm so terrified
Of being alone
That when I finally find someone
I truly connect with
Not just physically
But when every fibre of my being screams to be with them
Again starts the self-erruption
The awkward conversation
The "I'm such a bro"
Oh you didn't message me?
Destruction bubbling up
Under a crusty surface
And anyone who ever has the guts and soul to brave walking on the mantle
Will undoubtedly be swallowed up by the torrential flames and magma
For the greatest way for me to show you respect
Is to open the tourist gate
And watch this suffocate
Before you can **** yourself
Trying to love something
As volcanic as me
choke on these ashes
words I shouldn't have scattered...
But what if
when the cloud clears
you realise you don't like
what you find.
Boys want a real girl.
They have their vision
of this genuine
The problem is
I'm too real
that is aching to burst through
and they feel it
they feel the pulsing
behind my mind when they kiss me
they feel it in the whites of my eyes
and the passion that seeps from my pores
when they touch me
it's static electricity
and I have to put a warning sign
on my skin
Trespassers will be prosecuted
Boys don't realise what they want,
but whatever it is, it's not reality.
if it was
I'd have a lot to pass around.
I don't know what to do with myself.
My hands are clammy
and my mouth is on rapid fire.
The safety you switched off
with a grin
a hand in the centre of my back
and opening car doors
still standing in the cold
just to take me in...
You can have it all.
I don't know why
even without the safety
the safety that would have held in all those unsolicited puns and awkward moments
Even WITHOUT that safety,
I feel safe
I want to melt into the seat
so comfortably complete.
I'm so much bigger than you think
And by saying that
I'm all the more smaller
Just a selfish drinker
Who sips from each cup
And thinks she will get full
Without ever finishing a glass
And even when the tumbler cracks
I take a drink regardless
Even though it cuts my lips
The pressure shatters your soul
I'm sorry, but I've learnt that my fingers get sliced up when I try to glue back together a broken glass.
Trying to keep it casual
It's tricky when you overthink
Each little step
Is this swing of my hands too intense?
My stride a little bit too long
Or not long enough?
Am I crazy
Turning my head this fast?
Or walking into on-coming traffic?
It was just a thought
Don't let it show on your face
Just replace that thought with a slight smile
What a cute dog
Can I pet it?
I'm trying so hard to keep my hands out of my pockets
That's too casual
What you're looking for won't be in there
He didn't put anything in there for you
It's only casual
Don't get relaxed enough to fill these pockets
With greedy hands
I get it
I can remove myself so easily
I do it all the time
Just keep walking
And awkwardly smiling
At each person that comes along
Don't be tempted by comfy pockets
When I finally give in
I always do
I find them empty
Just like he said I would
Keeping it casual
I keep walking
I don't know what you are to me.
Does that make you nothing?
I don't think so.
I think I would know
what nothing feels like...
Feels like signing Mum's name on a gravestone application that never got processed
there should be screeching steel on tarmac
like in the movies
my ears are FULL of nothing
SO full of nothing
they are heavy with the sound of silence
I can SEE crunching and snapping
I can SEE screaming
but I HEAR heaviness.
...Maybe buzzing? A roaring?
A reverberation of all that nothing?
As it spills from my ears and drips with gravity to the roof of the car
which has become the floor
flooded with all that nothing
it's my Mum's hair
curls scrunched against the head rest
tantalising ringlets reaching for the ceiling
it's the last I'm seeing of her
and this word play means nothing
when you consider how much nothing I've held
in an upside down car.
Nothing feels like reality
after experiencing the surreal.
One day I'll write all of these poems into little books
Hide all these places in little nooks
And these faces into looks
That I can no longer show
Cause I took too much
And left little to sow
My earth is bare
Cause no flowers grow
But I shaved it
a moment more
Then maybe I would have seen
What could have been green without envy and greed
Just a seed that grew from a lack of seed
I can plead with myself but my ears are deaf to empty threats
Resetting in my head like a record on replay
The slight delay drives me crazy.
I used to read my poems out loud
But now the rhythm is gone
It's on repeat
We reap what we sow
And I sewed salt into my wounds.
I can't tell if I'm bleeding or *******,
there doesn't seem to be much of a difference.
I can't get this taste out of my mouth
No matter how many times I scrub and rinse
Since wrapping my lips around your name
Eating hasn't been the same
Morsels dry in my throat
Tidbits of conversation
Threaded to me on an ever-unravelling napkin
Imagine my frustration
As I can never get enough
This meat is tough to chew
It's you I can't swallow
And yet I can't help but run back for another bite
Thirsty girl is parched.
pat me and I'll purr
but I'll always sleep
where the food is
Don't over think it, Human.
It's not warm
It just remembers what it felt like to be warm
And each time it's remembering
Only the memory of a memory
Each diminishing a little more
Until the candle finally flickers out
The wick burns to a halt
And it falters
For it has forgotten
are as oversaturated
as my feed.
~ f e e e e e d ~
salts and sugars
of my ego.
My house is messy
and that's the way
uh huh, uh huh
I like it
I feel alive
a constant revving for the green light
I'll no longer fight
for needless perfection
just for what feels right
and where happiness becomes an infection
watch me get sick from this mess
Off my head
Off my ****
But life acts like this
Been found with hands red
And smell the roses
Nothing but poses
In a field of fakery
New scent from Axe! The perfect gift for those in your life who hate themselves. Buy new 'Axe: Deflection' today!
I guess I forgot where time stood
since it doesn't stand at all
it waits in your lungs and laughter
sitting deep within each fall
each exhale on your lips
in the moment right before a kiss
didn't realised how much I missed
for time to stand once more
Here we are again
And I selectively choose to say we
Referring to myself
As I am indisputably infatuated with myself
Endeavoured by the sound of my own voice
Turned on by my reactions
Reactions that you stimulate but I congratulate myself for reacting in the appropriate manner
I am a planner
If I practice in the mirror my ****** expressions long enough I can plan her
Analyse and evaluate through clenched teeth
I am a circle where the ends don't meet
In reflection, perhaps it is the product of my inability to connect fuelled alongside my desire to be included. I learnt how to be human. I read books on how to be human. I analysed and studied the reactions of those around me. I fixed and tweaked myself. Now when I feel something, I have no idea if it is the real thing from either party included: one falling for a constructed personality and the other playing a part.
"I've noticed something about you;
a consistency in your attitude;
a frequency in you--"
the words in her mouth for a moment
before completing the comment.
"You are always waiting for everyone to leave you."
Conversation with a friend.
Sometimes I cry so terribly that I have to stop myself before I **** myself
Just those moments when
I ebb into a saturation of grieving
I let myself
Unintentionally let myself
Until it’s difficult to draw breath because my throat is trying to follow my tears by retching itself from my chest
Always in front of a mirror
And while I watch my body tear itself apart I lock away the image and analyse the show
I’m at a theatre
And I’m performing
Practicing a part
And I start to write the script between my teeth before I have even acknowledged the grieving as my own for my mother
Who never reached forty
I create a story
And like any good book that grasps me in the depths of my empathy I can fall so willingly into its embrace but the moment I put it down I can accept that it’s reality is not my own
Just as I transform my gravity into stories that I can
To feel another day
To reminisce on the memory of pain
The fickle fluttering of apathy
Locked away in words
It’s my moment of artistic genius!
Please come bear witness to such a heartfelt sentiment
And let me pretend that it is not real
For as long as I can continue
Otherwise I don’t know if I can stop her from swallowing herself
The next time she cries
Words dance for
May you find
you didn't know
you were looking for.
It's not fair
that despite knowing
you will never love me back
all I can recall
is how you did everything
I said thank you after just one night because I knew that you would one day become nothing more than a beautiful memory.
How many times
can I message you
to see you reply
with one word
and still tell myself
maybe he's just busy
maybe he just doesn't like talking via text
maybe he's caught up working at the job he is so dedicated to
maybe he simply meant to say more but got distracted
he does that
maybe I'm making excuses
for a boy that doesn't love me
or care enough
to give me his time
or show an inkling of effort
everything is fine
How many times?
love can hit you
an unforgiving crunching of steel and glass
then ricochets in a confusion
of twisted metal
screaming down the highway
you had watched where you were heading
so that maybe I wouldn't be regretting
falling in love
with a car wreck
There's smoke in my eyes
I'm not crying
and practice speaking
the languages of love.
But I can climb mountains
In my mind and in the world.
I can build a fortress for my career
Where I am the nurturer of a thousand dandelions
Whose choices deliver a challenge that leave me breathless and my heart racing in exhilaration.
I can smash boulders with the force of palms pressed flat against desperation.
I can ask for help without being owned and I can give it without losing myself.
I can build, destroy, rectify, satisfy.
I can change my mind
And it isn't an issue.
There's "need" and then there's you.
You're the icing on the cake
And for the mean time I'll just watch my weight, thanks.
I am an artist
I paint images of myself in the eyes of others
Different portraits with different expressions
Hung in a gallery
that no one visits
I wasn't looking for love
but it found me anyway
in a glass of cider and a 2am conversation
it filled the silence with heartbeats
and the night with music
it was the grip in my hair and the kisses on my neck
just a peck that left me begging for more
love found me in shared poems
and Lord of the Rings games
and blushes as thank you
and two plates for one meal
in Star Wars jocks
and quirky socks
love said hi with a grin and screamed over loud noises
to drown out every other worry
that I may have
about losing what I've only just begun to love
I need not wander any longer in the tresses of my depression
As this lesson I now know
Long time no see
Mm* these floors I'll never walk again
These walls that hold a love that never ended
The light in eyes of love and life the same
The energy I'll never know again
The faded halls the twists and turns my friend
Hold so tight the love for each dead end
The memory of feet against cold slate
These are the floors I'll never walk again
Mi Re Do
Where does the heart go
Why do my hands still know
The places I always saw
I know I've been here before
Things always look the same
When they give you the most pain
But it's just in your eyes
That I don't recognise
Take me home
To years ago
Love is the same
It's you I don't know
So take me home
Show me the way
Take me home
Lyrics to a song I wrote last year. Perhaps try and imagine a melody...
Sometimes I wonder
About how a green cloth is not green at all
A material that absorbs every other light extension
Then I think about how
Your eyes absorb every light
And how your lips absorb every light
Except a dusky pink
I think about how the light rejects my skin whilst it welcomes yours
Warms as it absorbs within your strengthened brow
I think about how
Colour doesn't exist
And how emotions are a chemical reaction
How when he dealt me "the conversation"
Our bodies fired up
In one last effort to create a connection
Between a male and a female
Of the same species
In one last effort to preserve
As is the instinctual nature of animals
Perhaps what makes us human
Is that we were able to reject
One chemical equation over another
And this cloth has a colour
That doesn't exist.
flipped on its head
frozen time thawed
friends to the end.
Yet I am still human, and falling to loss is instinctual.
I don't know
how to say
how it makes me feel
except that it seems wrong
sitting deep within my stomach
the realisation that
whether by choice
love has an expiry
and the heart clenching
and lost passion
I translate to anger
in a futile effort
to protect myself
from the mortality
A ***** ***** blood from a phallus
with talons that dig deep with malice
into the soft malleable flesh of man.
Perhaps your mother was right when she titled me so.
A *****, however
A ***** buries his **** in holes
ten fold over after swearing to the sanctity of monogamy and honour
after blaming his old lover for the depression and behaviour
that saw men fight with bloodied fists, wrists split and drying
a ***** splits women over his **** like stuffing a pig with a stick that throbs for more meat
a ***** justifies his actions by placing blame on his ex
but Honey, you love ***
and devouring those flowers
was all you
if drinking was a power you'd be superman
if self-destruction was a job you'd be a multi-faceted flaccid rat faced and rancid multi-billionaire
if hypocrites ran for government there would be no one better to elect as president than your sorry ***
So excuse me if I pass but my heart wasn't built to last a hurricane.
I am still alive in this underground prison
livid in the hole that you shoved me in
take a shovel and find out
if this dead woman breathes
The bite of freezing water sets the tone
searing cold that penetrates the bone
whispers on the wind of stolen breaths
tighten around the inhale of a chest
and only when the blood of men obey
will scathing heat surrender the delay
temper flares that stoke the flames to rile
the chosen word that meaning begs worthwhile.
da Dum da Dum da Dum da Dum da Dum
Leaning in darkness
against an embrace
I fall into the arms of night
and meet no resistance
Where full forms
where the release
and the tragedy of life is pronounced.
This is the path that dead men tread and wounded women wander.
In a shop
Posing against the wall
Why do you stare?
You have the one for all.
Take him home
And whisper in his ear
"I saw a girl at the mall
and she could smell my fear."
Do not be afraid, little bird; I have no hold over a memory.
I changed my body in a way that meant I couldn't fit the clothes I used to wear with you
even if I tried
I could have just gotten fat, but no, I have to be perfect
You called me lazy
I was depressed
But never fear, (or do)
I'm still working at myself
Every now and then, I try on the dresses in my closet, the ones that you said I looked beautiful in. Then I cry when they don't fit over my head or zip up to my arms. So they go back to the closet where they will hang forever until someone can be loved in them again.