Dinner is ready my love!
Is it? Well get me another beer *****!
Stalking to the refrigerator
past the knife block and the empty
bottle of wine, both are mine
except then you say
Hey! This ***** cold
and the argument grows old
because I called dinner 45 minutes ago
then
in bed
you rolled over
and said
*I love you

Knock knock knock

There is no precedence
for a knock on the door
she’s busy cleaning
while staring at the floor

Knock knock knock*

It’s the insistence of the knock
that has her trembling
and she’s ready to give up
until she starts remembering

There is no one who would
knock upon the door
Her little army of Seven
would never leave her trembling
there is only one
who would want to settle the score

She peers beyond the curtain
and sees fruit
She is hungry, and just a little angry
her army of Seven
are mighty
but they are miners
and she needs to eat
and the apple merchant
is elderly
with a smile
there is no fear
of a brute

Her mouth waters
for a taste of fruit

She opens the door
and reaches forward
murmuring
“Just one taste”

The merchant is eager
to hand over the apple
cackling
“That is all it takes”

"But first and foremost
be warned...
A prince may, or may not
come
Bite the apple
you are the one to decide
Sate your hunger now
or wait!
Eat, or don’t eat
Let your decision be
your demise"

Snow White is hungry
and angry
that the little men
don’t provide
and she’ll bite the apple
holding onto the hope
that her decision
is the one
that will provoke her prince
to ride
to her side

But it was otherwise known
that her prince was thus occupied
by a ***** *****
and he didn’t feel the rip
in the fabric of time

Snow White collapses
clutching the apple
in her hand
representing all her hopes
and dreams
the years trickle away
like sand

It’s apparent that all
that she had left
to watch over her
was a small figure
that if she could see
would make her run
more than a mile
But for the apple
clutched in her fist

Poor old Grumpy
might crack a smile

say it again
how you need me
to make your decisions
is that how you see me
as your counsellor?
Not a mate or partner
or as someone who walked
by your side.
Someone you could
confide in
or  just someone, behind
you could hide?
My skirt is certainly
volumous enough
My arms could hold
back a monster tide
with just a bucket
Take my advice
and spit on it
ground it beneath your heel
and yell how I'm not fit
to tell you how
I know you,
Own it
Take the shoe
and make it fit
*I'm over it

all the little children play
in the streets
their grubby little faces
smile with cherubic grace
all the while
little worker ants
dance double time
along invisible threads
and get confused
when a finger spreads
North to East
when they should be
travelling South
How come, little baby
you need something
in your mouth?
Guessing rhymes
is a favourite pastime
to a literary Genius
two stepping
to a pop beat
that should be waltzed
but the grubby children
only see the rain
running fast
down the gutter
Their tiny ships
made from discarded
plastic
are ocean liners
and their inarticulate
shouts
whisper into the ether
dying a harsh death
upon the frost
Scattered bits of flotsam
are piled up high
upon the curb of
no longer relevant
Wastage to the scavengers
but not asked
of the grubby faces
if they grew out of it

I only closed my eyes for a second

The death forest surrounds me.
Ghostly white trees mocking me in their silence
Woven bleached bones of all the fallen
bound together, glowing under a pale full moon
Empty eye sockets peering at me
as I weave in and out of their grasp
Inside the mist, stumbling without guidance

There’s an old man, sitting in one of the trees
laughing at the insanity but oddly distressed,
smiling at me. Cackling with glee but weeping
as he reaches out to touch my hair and sweep it
behind one ear. It’s comforting in it’s creepiness

He’s whispering to me in a smoke scratched voice
Comfort is as comfort does
Redemption is not at the foot of a hill
Catch a tiger by the tail
and it’s your blood that will spill
All I can hear is booming laughter
that shake the leaves of the bone dead trees
and as I watch them fall to the ground and turn to ash
I realize the old man never even opened his mouth

Then it’s all gone*

I’m back to sitting in front of a stone cold hearth
ripping pages from the book of my mind
and watching my Memories feed the fire
as I poke it with a red hot piece of steel
It was all the fodder for the fire I could find
Sipping from the crystal goblet filled to the brim
with Lies mixed with Deceit with a slice of lemon
and a dash of Arsenic just for a kick
The fire casts prisms of light bouncing from the crystal
onto bare walls to show a slow waltz of torture
that bleeds down the bricks in sinking desperation
A rainbow of colors from a ***** oil slick

you’ll never feel the bite of pain
that tears the skin from bone
nor the aching loneliness that
scares the heart from home
the absoluteness that leaves a hole
where nothing is able to hide
while driven by the loathing
birthing a life to the love inside
no matter what the circumstance
you can’t negate the absolute horror
of wanting what is begged for
there is no returning the honor
I’ll whip my self unmercifully
until the end of a perfect day
even while you subjugate me
my scars upon myself just say
how much you intended to deny me
all twisted parts upon me are a whole
crisscrossed upon my body are the marks
that give you access to my soul

She emerged from the mist of a never ending fairy tale that was mistaken as a horror story and spread her wings to breathe death upon all who sort to strip from her the scales that had bought her glory and wrought death and destruction early on roaring I love to wake in the morning to the smell of chicken cacciatore!

But the days turned to weeks turned to months turned to forever when they just went on and on and the people she once terrorized died and turned to dust (if they escaped her justice) and she never aged one day over time. She sat back and snorted as her rage curled like smoke from a dying fire and contemplated that all her rage had dissipated and she had lost all her spark with her diminishing ire…

So she retreated to her lair deep in the Carpathians to contemplate her too long fate and only ever emerged to hunt (yes, she still ate) Her motto of Meat is fair game never changed, she was Dragon, her physiology stayed the same but she made sure it was a clean ****, out of necessity, not borne of fear and went back to her cave to lick her tail while studying her navel and sniffing back the occasional tear

On a particularly cold and blustery night, a bard, who was following the latest in season ‘now’ knight lost his way and stumbled into her cave and gave both of them a fright. She recognized his poet heart and he recognized her, from the start and she agreed not to eat him if he carried her musing to the heart of the people… so began a mutual understanding of the words that would be impart

She understood that her words would be the water that slaked a raging fire and would show others that she was angry but they had nothing to fear from her in the least and when she spoke and accidently let loose the fire in her heart then she felt contrite but there was nothing she could do about her inner beast.

All she wanted was the world to know that she had something to say and it was important that they looked beyond what they saw with their own eyes and ignored her form and looked into her heart.

She ate the bard, he was a tasty treat. She realized she was able to speak to the world, without interference because she was otherwise human and could embrace that part.
PS:

She still occasionally terrifies small children and is partial to animals for a quick snack but she remembers to walk among the village with a smile on her face and a twinkle in her eye and knows that her words will give back :)

fly, be free

                                 A
                            B        C
             ­           D                E
                            F      ­  G
                                 H
                                    I
                 ­                     Just
                                       Kid
                                          L ove
                                           Me!
                                          No
    ­                                     One (ever did)
                                         Perhaps
                                        Questions
                                      Reveal
                                    Secrets
  ­                                  Time
                    ­                Unknown
                                   ­ Vows
                                     Whimsical
                                       X haling a breath
                                       You land in my
                                      Zone

He pinned her up
against the wall
making sure
She wouldn't  fall
She held on tight
to her wishes
and her scream
all the while
hoping
it wasn't a dream
He carried her
to the counter top
and whispered to her
I can not stop
I never want to stop
I will never be done
with my only one
She inhales his kisses
and his sighs
She feeds her desires
into his eyes
She lays pinned
upon a counter top
and breathes into him
*I hope you never stop

colour me Pink
blushes of Rose
I think
the colour Blue
looks nasty on you
and Green clashes
with your eyes
and just makes you look
Feral
Red bleeds from nails
that like to imbed
while they score
tracks down your back
but um
I'm not Sheryl...
So please refrain
from another's name
while so deep inside me
you can't hide from me
and I won't need to find
another reason why
you are a stranger
preying on anger
Share the blame
and I'll be glad
to change
my name...

it started with the alarm
which I forgot to turn off
because everyday
it's how it usually starts
but not today
I sacrificed some hard earned
hours, for a day, just for me
but forgot the alarm
sigh
So I arise
Turned on my phone
read some poetry
appreciated

every.

single.

response.

to me and my ramblings

Facebooked each piece
of my heart that poked me
while being grateful
they tickle with a finger
and not attack me
at my backbone
with  a serrated knife

thats not nice

Cooked an early dinner
for my family
Because usually dinner time
clashes unusually with drinking time

and quite frankly
today, I just want them to eat heartily
and leave me be...

but one tiptoed through my sadness
because, he seems to be able
to climb any barbed wire fence,
negotiate the most hormonal minefield
see inside my ***** laundry basket
and kiss the hurts I feel

So I'm sitting here wallowing
in just another day
and I hear music from inside
I put my book down and sway

99 Luft Balloons
(in German, not English)
He hates that song with a passion
but he knows I love it.

Lucky Number...
Kate Bush
Fischer Z

Then my most favourite song!

See chameleon
Lying there in the sun
All things to everyone

Run run away

and my heart bursts apart!

It's not just another day
he's trying to make it special
with things to make me smile
bringing music into my life

no, it's not just another day,
it's my birthday
Raising my glass
to Iron Maiden
and Flogging Molly
Metallica and
and Jethro Tull
(the band, not the man)
I'm singing like no ones
listening
I'm dancing like no ones
looking
and I don't care!

It's my birthday
all are welcome
to feel my pleasure
and share!

Jan 28th 2014

So ignoble to want to keep it all and then to
realize that it is worth naught but a title
To potentially be able to take a form that
leaves one wanting to bury deep beneath
an unbeaten track to lie low for just a while

What price can be put upon a priceless piece
of Art, that can only be appreciated by 'the one'
Who bears the burden of owning something
that will only be just a trophy to gather dust
in thought, never to be remembered how it was won?

Fear: Will it hurt?
Bravado: Who would care?
Caution: Don’t listen!
Resolve: It’s no longer there!

“Did I hurt you love?” and a pat on the ****
goes a long way to taking away the pain
“No, no, it’s alright” but the blood that streaks
the sheets glistens in the shrieking storm
only to be distorted by the reflection from
the window as it drowns under the rain
“So the names John” but it’s not so much
the name, its more the casual way that
it’s thrown away. A sigh is offered up to
complete the act.
Not a care to place a name with the face.
Sigh
Isn’t always the same?

Every drip from bleeding pen
will forever drop
into an ocean
of broken hearts and distant shores
drowning hopes and flailing flaws
Every line, a path to cross
detailing every love lost
Every hate turns into crime
presenting as a moment in time
failing are the words
sitting as wingless birds
as Winter settles
upon us under snow clouds
we allow to own us
Our words will ever fail
leaving a faint trail
that allows me to find you
but only if you speak true
Speak to me
so I feel rhythm
give my heart beat a rhyme
break me out of this prison
where words have failed me
I'm done being a prisoner
for committing no crime

And the old habits once that led to good times
are just now old addictions
it wasn't supposed to last
to see another day
now it's fifteen years.
With the scars we bare
the shackles sting
we forged a prison
only to never see past the bars
Empty scenes and the faces
I no longer recall
I'm beyond the edge
welcome to the abyss.
**** the greetings lets just start this
as strangers who have grown all to familiar to the flame.
The story is there I just don't care to recall.

Perhaps because you sit there
at the edge of a fiery pit
casting memories into a flame
that were never legit
mocking the chains that hold me
casting aspersions to the skies
when did you get so close
to Purgatory, held hostage
by others lies?
Unchain me from this misery
how so easy it is to forget
the path taken to Ecstasy
is scarred with arrowed hearts
something more scary than
Lost Love and littered with
bones of Regret
You know the story well
you feed the fire with it's ripped pages

As in wasted lies and tattered pages nothing feeds a fire like a good dose of delusion.
No more do I view the possibilitites, simply count the days and escape further into myself.
Sometimes we find within the depths there are no clear answers .
Sometimes locked within we find just more emptiness and nothing more.

Old tracks and new scars together keep company with stories
I care no longer to tell.
The page as it was before you is as broken as before we met.
Does it all ever truly change or just become as twisted and bitter as I?

Do we wish to re read old stories, those that shattered into glass?
Do we want to tell the same old tales? Should we even try to rehash?
Sitting in the darkness, tracing old scars, feeding the fire from pages
that are not who we really are.
Wishing  we were progeny of those that had it good.
Thinking we are better than most but they misunderstood
that we stand in front of the fire, feeding it pages from our book,
never understanding all the mistakes that we took.
Never understanding that we listen to our conscious as we lay,
never understanding there was a price we had to pay.

We tell old stories out of the same old lies
In seconds and empty barrooms taking comfort in space
and drowning in distance .
We wore this disguise, we no longer can recognize our own reflections .

Sometimes truth is the only thing that keeps us from the destruction
all of it built upon lies .
The tides change, taken to a distant shore only returned like a message in a bottle,
discovered long past our time .

Why weather the storm when we always preferred it’s chaos my dear?
Old wrongs would be far easier if not feeling ever so right .
Sometimes you have to follow a dead-end for the pure hell of knowing.

And in that dead end we find the final passage of the book
Written in blood, scratched upon the walls,
tucked away in some hidden nook, in a corner
where we like to hide our eyes.
The final lines of a storm damaged mind, a wrecked soul cast upon a lonely
tide, the final words scratched into scars that wind around a body like a
cloak
The last three words scribbled in a ****** mess..
What a joke!
In empty crowds and fallen stars we often see only what gives us a much easier day.
Wine with regrets, hearts and barbwire confessions, none where ever as true as you .
Bleed those thoughts once more and we will pretend together .

This waltz is as clear as a sinking ships bliss
tell them all I've long since gone insane
Give my regards to your memories for I will burn in their illusions
till our Hell is left barren,  no remorse suits the ash as does this bitter pill
and a never existent flame.

To hide what is so easily viewed  now the scars we bare with such glee in a perfectly twisted display.
Give me no tomorrows promise for I only yearn for today.

http://hellopoetry.com/poem/first-date-17/
http://hellopoetry.com/poem/first-date-ii/
(best read in order)

The stone walls are closing in on me and I’m hungry

   So hungry

   I’m on my knees begging silently to let my anguish end. I could have made it good. I wanted the pleasure more than the means to the end. I just needed a taste to know that I was alive once again but I’m left trapped. The walls closing in on me are a testament that I can never escape my existence. Even my fantasies are not enough.

  So hungry!

  How did I get back here? Inside my prison?  Inside my own destiny? I am stronger than the person I was so many, many years ago but weaker than I want to be. I rose above the hand that life dealt to me and I have been a major player in history but I can’t rise above the fact that I’m left weeping inside my stone prison and I’m alone, again, and hungry.

   Where did things go wrong?

   The dark alley that I found you in was perfect. You were as alone, as lonely as me. But I didn’t want to make you feel less than special than you were to me. The restaurant, the candles, the sense of intimacy… It was all perfect. My imagination was at an all time high. I sensed your urgency.

  I projected images as arousing as I could make them.  I lived inside my own fantasies and I wanted you to want me as I wanted you. And I wanted you so desperately. Our dalliance was more than a mere moment. You were special to me. Not everything I projected was from my own mind. I felt your acceptance. Your willingness to indulge… Your complete and utter resolve to be what I wanted you to be.

   But now you’re gone. Seemingly crumpled to dust. Escaping from me just like every other thing that I held dear.

   You were not a figment of my imagination, even though everything around us was, but you didn’t stay and now I’m the one that will pay. I chose wrong. I understand that now. I’m sorry but please understand… I’m so hungry.

   I curl upon the dirt floor to contemplate my mistake. The tears from my eyes are from frustration and anger and maybe just a little self indulgence that I can’t hold onto the fantasy. I breathed upon warm skin but I'm left with the bitter taste of myself upon my lips. It's the taste of me that leaves me bereft.

   The mist that settles upon me like a blanket and hugs me in a gentle caress is more comfort than I can take. I don't remember much but I remember one thing...

   *I’m so hungry

there is an initiative
on Facebbok
for the Black Dot
to be displayed on a palm
of those suffering with
Domestic Violence
who can't speak to you
because the cause of their angst
is standing behind them
fist raised, aim true
they're not allowed
to speak to you
but if you see that
Black dot,
and their eyes are bleeding
at you, please call the police
if you know them, if you don't
ask for their phone number
which is traceable too.

Supportive entirely
to that end
I propose an initiative
in support of a Blue Dot
a dot on the hand, of those
that suffer just as quietly
every single day
Those that live in denial
those they love and live for
might get better some day
I would like to place
a Blue Dot
on both my palms
and any who see it
on me
would just hold my hand
in theirs
letting me feel a connection
Knowing they understand

Black Dot/Blue
unable to speak truth
there is no doubt
Suffering is a real thing
the coloured dot
needs you to reach out

Months of sweating
vetting every word written
Shivering over all
that remained hidden

Rocking back and forth
Recognising the demons scream
Asking to be fed more
Inside of empty dreams

Then the words, they spill
from cracked and broken lips
bleeding onto tissue paper
inking stains of fatal trips

Then comes the rush
a verbiage of torrential pain
Crouching on a backlit screen
pockmarked with finger stains

The first spike of adrenaline
fizzes inside a broken mind
The churning end to a journey
that has completely left you blind

Collapsing in upon itself
is the high that's found a low
and when the reader is gone
You wonder where you'll go?

Perhaps you'll find a new pusher
Someone else to feed your pain
Someone that will dig that needle
deep
even deeper into the vein

I stumbled upon a most beautiful poem
It made me cry, and smile and pretend
I don't ever want to have such loss known
I wept all the way, to the very end

then I read it again and again

We have all felt it, tasted its poison
tried to stay tight lipped without drinking
It's bittersweet kiss tends to destroy us
pores contract as it leeches through thinking

I seek surcease as I demand
another shot of being ******

So to the note, left at the end

Let the candy of such sublime memories
melt upon a tongue that never denies
For none of us will ever simply, be free
but we can sweeten our blood
with remembrance to good times

*good times

down the hallway
where destiny led
inside a room
where inhibitions shed
white miracles bled
I’ll lay my head
to dream beneath
a non de plume
I’m not me, are you?

riotous beauty will bloom
where it is aptly
coveted
smell the sweet perfume
told our sweet, sensual song
will long be often
coveted,
down the hallway
where destiny led

But this is reality.

What I am thinking, believing,
She, I,
cannot speak to you...it is that

On the edge of Saturn,
watching 3 moons
sink and burn
drowning sorrows
in a intergalactic tavern.

I just can't find
the energy to believe,
so I keep asking,
who is inside my body?
not you, not him,
who is me inside of me?

On the edge of me,
is not the endless roses or
the fact they seem
to placate themselves in repose.

It is not even the field
of riotous color
that undulates endlessly,
what I was led
to believe.

Not even the heady scent
that has slowed my feet,
can compete
with what I believed,
and what now,
no longer do...

1
Sorry I'm not enough
2
Sorry I'm not tough
3
Sorry I'm not pretty
4
Sorry I have no pity
5
Sorry I can't cry
6
Sorry I can't try
...
274
Sorry we clash
275
Sorry my eye is black
276
Sorry for my smile
277
Sorry for a while
...
423
Sorry I looked up
424
Sorry I looked down
425
Sorry I looked around
426
Sorry I looked at the ground
...
789
Sorry for the heartache
790
Sorry for the pleasure
791
Sorry for the misconception
792
Sorry for the false treasure
...
997
Sorry we connected
998
Sorry we felt at ease
999
Sorry you wasted so many years
1000
Apologies

There it was just sitting
in the middle of the street
all black and white
waiting
for traveling feet

Herds of milling bipeds
traversed across it
as it stretched across
a sweltering pit of tar

While masses of
Auto.. mo.. biles
broke it’s back
wait
I think...
they call them...
Cars?

I just stood back

Watching

Waiting

Wondering

just contemplating

But still…
I was at a complete loss

I keep a vigil at the curb
waiting
for the zebra to come
and wondering…

*how do they know where to cross?

We met in high school
(I won't count this as a year
but I fear you didn't
remember me as I did you)

I : (1989)
we met again
when your best friend
engaged to mine
I bought the tequila
you bought the limes

II III IV : (1990 -1993)
we dated
on and off
(even though you asked me
to be your bride
1 week after
our friends
engagement party)

V : (1994)
we moved together
to Mackay, away from
your family, great for you,
for mine, I cried

VI:  (1995)
we married
after our Son was born
perhaps you thought
it was time
(I never understood
the delay, I mourned)

VII : (1996)
we struggled
to be partners
and parents

VIII : (1997)
I birthed another Son
we were so happy
Life had
truly begun

IX : (1998)
Two little boys
so opposite
from their
Father and Mother
we still struggled
(but we had each other)

X:  (1999)
You decided your place
in this world
I surprised you
with a trip to Ireland
(you didn't want
to leave your girl,
but you couldn't wait
to meet family)

XI : (2000)
It all fell apart...
minding your own business
on your motorcycle
some stupid driver
ripped you apart

XII XIII XIV (2001 - 2003)
It was just me
paying bills
with no money
feeding kids
on love and honey
endless appointments
with doctors and shrinks
(did anybody think
I'd need a shrink?)
I never blinked, not once

XV : (2004)
You asked for more
another child you said
as affirmation you are not dead
so I bore you a daughter
at 35 ...
(the same year I took you
to the veterinary clinic
to be fixed, well...
it WAS just like
dropping the dog off)

XVI to Present (2005 to Today)
We still struggle
with day to day trouble
but for every year
we survived
I'll give you another,
and a high five

Oh.....
and a
*I Love You

so many years older than me
first born
tragically...
he had five little sisters
he meant the world to me

I was 12 when he left me

Not really, he didn't leave
He was torn from my arms
in tragedy
There was no mystery
he lost his life to another
a driver, who was persecuted
to live and bear the insanity
of losing a mate
I might forgive, I might hate
but I live a half life without him
My brother ...

He'll never meet my family
My husband who he would never,
ever approved of but would have loved
because they both loved me

He never met his neices and nephews
because he was only 18
when he said goodbye
He never had his own
princes or princesses
he ended his years on earth
I like to think, on a high

But how high do you fly
when life had only just begun?
He had his baby sisters
like chicks in a nest
I often think he regrets
looking down on us
that he wasn't there
to prevent the pain
he witnessed when we found
a boy that hurt us
I like to think he'd be glorious
in his ire to avenge us
I know I'm not the only one

Gone from this earth too soon...

His Mum and Dad fractured
No parent  wants to bury their children
it doesn't seem right
but what kept them going
was their 5 daughters
as each goes on
then into the dark
they know they're not alone
He's there, holding the lantern
shining bright
welcolming them home
One by one
He's our light

I miss him every single
God ****** day!
It's been over  30 years
but what can I say?

Being a girl
that was a princess
to a soul so sweet
I miss him
with every heartbeat

no one looks at me
like you do
no one takes my fingertips
and slips them between lips
to lick off my essence

no one knows me
like you do
no one takes me inside them
like a simple hymn
simply undressed

no one touches me
like you do
no one ever wanted to know me
no matter how I sat simply
but you do

no one wanted to know me
until you undressed me
now it simply comes down to
two words
*I Do

There is the iron gate.
It’s ornate.
A work of art.
Not really a deterrent to anyone that yearns to be beyond it.
It’s just a gate.
But it’s the start of the journey that will begin at the long driveway that holds us apart.
But it’s just a gate.
It’s pretty but it won’t hold me back.
It’s just another barrier to your heart.

The large mahogany doors that stand closed to me are just that.
Closed
But not for long.
Open for me, I can hear you singing our song
Open!
Bring me into your outer world.
It won’t be long.

The marble foyer is cold.

The chandelier?

Bold!

The emptiness is a blessing in disguise. I know you are watching
I can feel your eyes, upon me, a gentle caress upon my inviting skin.
You don’t fool me,
I can feel your sin.
Please, you invited me in.

The hallway is cold and dark, the cold of the rooms that are left and right of me is stark.
There is no fire burning in these outer rooms. No life for me to wonder about and yet, I’m here, wandering aimlessly in these empty halls, and the echo of my lonely moan is projected back to me on an angry shout.

Where could you be about?

I’m drifting past the library that is filled with your intelligence
And past the solar filled with unearthly blooms that drown me in their fragrance
But there is no other sign of life
I walk the raw edge of madness upon a finally honed knife
Madness is gladly pressing upon me and its pungent aroma is rife

But I’ll continue to glide toward an essence that is pure
Because it calls out to me.
Waiting.
Wanting.
Listening.
Asking.
Wanting to know that what is coming is sure.

Down barren hallways and steps of stone.
I’ve traveled them all.
I did it alone
Across a landscape that was draped in a colored shroud
I stepped into a chamber that was devoid of all sound.

I’m here

You’re there in front of the fire
Surrounded by nothing, you stare at the flames that reflects back all your ire.
Your mirth, your understanding, your passiveness is greedily eaten by the hungry lick of a relentless flame
But as I glide silently to your side and cast a mercurial look at the hearth, I watch the roaring fire become soothing warmth and know that I have gained your inner sanctum and your life will never be the same.

Douse the fire in the cold hard hearth

*I will forever be your flame

for Sally A Bayan

Once upon a time, a lovely young woman met a young man beside a pond. They both stood feeding the ducks absently, not really looking at each other. The young woman, in her eagerness to feel what she was feeding, stretched out her fingers to stroke the feathers of the nearest duck but it was further away than what she anticipated, and she fell into the pond. The young man reacted by casually removing his shoes and socks, rolling his pants legs and gingerly stepping his way into the pond to hold out his fingertips to grasp flaying hands and bring the young woman back to the grassy edge. Embarrassingly, she sputtered her thanks and asked if there was anything she could do for him, *anything she said....
He asked if she could clean his pond stained clothes, she replied...
No, but if you don't mind the stains, they now match mine.
He looked away and muttered a goodbye.
The man on the other side of the pond watching her but couldn't get to her in time, whispered...
I would have thrown myself head first under you just so you remained without a stain, alas, I was too far away.
As he rounded the pond, and stood next to her, she repeated the same mistake and fell head first into the water, wanting to feel the softness of the duck but, this time, she added no new stains to her dress because two strong arms grabbed her as she fell a breath whispered in her ear...
*Don't stain your pretty dress again trying to find softness, it's holding you, right here...

I like to lick the window
he said
Whenever I see somebody
passing by
It's just my way
of saying*  Hi
I'd like to chat to them
but today I'm beat
I can't seem to stay
upon my feet
so I dragged a chair
which was such a feat
from dining room
to bedroom
and I didn't cheat
I actually left the room
for a moment in time
I love the new curtains
by the way
the fabric is sublime
but next time you decide
to rearrange the outside
could you give me a heads up
so I don't run and hide
so I can memorise
the exact amount of steps
I need to take
from bedroom to the out world
so I don't panic
when I try to escape
from the toaster
which asked me
if I was hungry
or the TV that invited me
to sit down and watch
a show or three
I don't like it when they talk to me
I just want to sit by the window
next to the bed
and lick all those people
walking by
**who managed to escape
from their head

I'm a size 14
European
I don't know what that is
in American
it's not a zero I think..
It's probably a cross between
overly skinny
bordering on chunky
not fit to be seen
in tank top and shorts
but when it's hot, it's hot
I'm not attractive
but cool
but I'm not lean
too many temptations
too many treats
I've never walked a mile
in another's shoes
I've never made it
to the end of the street
because my three children
throughly used me
abused my body
and then abruptly left me
I'm not so undesirous
that their Father turned away
In fact, to him
I'm curvelicious
and I don't even care
if that's a word
or not
I'm a big girl
I'm healthy
I'm loved
by a lot more people
than the anorexic girl
who snarled at me
when she wanted my man
but he was happy to stay
with the body that loved him
night and day

You don't give it?
Why should you ever?
When has a rats backside
warranted your time?
Like...
           *Never

stacked high at the end of Seventh St
in a darkened alley, as high as seven feet
is a condominium of empty dreams and hope
falling down in the rain, slipping down the *****
home to many of one of the finally lost
coming home, breathing crystals of frost
averaged by the meaning of the total cost
Here, they are no more less, than garbage tossed
stacked high at the end of Seventh St
where home and hearth is just a heartbeat
where a pillow under the head is just concrete
there is nothing less than a lie, a thief or a cheat
and laying on the ground, with nothing to eat
is an act of defiance but the moment is fleet
stacked high the end of Seventh St
in an alley that echoes with the sound of defeat
compressed paper layers become home complete
here lays just one person,
inside his castle of cardboard,
blessing the ****** Mary for his penthouse suite

there was a time when everything
was important
things that were huge, ginormous,
in proportion,
importantly huge..

then there was the little things...
like the walks in the summer rain
where you never cared that I was wearing
my best dress, you preferred me naked anyway
Dinner at Antonios,
getting caught in the snow
I didn't have gloves to warm my hands
you didn't either so you tucked me inside
your jacket and held my frozen fingers
to your chest, I didn't protest
but you told the passerby's that we were
conjoined
and when we were caught on the train
without a ticket you closed your eyes
and I lost my voice and confusion reigned
We walked home for miles after being evicted
you couldn't stop looking at me
and I couldn't hold my tongue
Then you left...
just upped, to walk another path
one you said you swore an oath to
but solitary a road still
but you may come back for me
but it doesn't matter, you see
Everything that was important
is no more
and everything you taught me
about Love
doesn't matter anymore
because you aren't here
to share the unimportant moments
with me

Printed a couple of poems
onto crisp white pages
My daughter coloured pictures
around words that took ages
Hole punched the left hand side
with Pink wool it is tied

Written and illustrated
by Helen and Chelsea

It's my greatest achievement to date
(beside my daughter, you see)

not so
without sound
there is a heartbeat
a gentle sniff
a scream
a hauntingly beautiful
song
a voice carrying
a burden
a body bent
standing strong
an unhappy heart
that bleeds
upon paradise
rearranging
circumstance
to justifiably
and painfully
try to arguably
lay down beside
What Is Wrong

We tend to lick our wounds
in the quiet of the night
when we think others
are sleeping
We stay awake
to protect them
from our own fright

We sit beneath one sided glass
so we can't see our own
reflection
and pretend we care so deep
as we are buried
beneath our defection

In the quiet
without the light
shining on our
imperfection
Gold and Silver
have no worth
as dull as Copper
and Nickel
ten times less
Precious
infinitely more
worth
than the babble of
the day to day
that's infects my ears
In the quiet
of the night
your precious voice
rises
The only song
my heart hears

To all the ungrateful ******
that felt me up on the back seat
in some unknown parking lot
because you wouldn't spring
for a real date
Perhaps your waiting for me
to bled my angst onto this page
Pffft
Don't wait!
If you've decimated me
into tiny parts
where slot A no longer fits
for your tiny part B
you don't deserve to be carried,
vaunted upon a poetic chaise
it's a pathetic waste
of my Joie de vivre
I can't read another word
of You were my one and only
until you left me
so I'm just going to keep
writing about
how good I was for him
and how he doesn't deserve me
Because He doesn't care!
He's down and *****
on the back seat
in another unknown parking lot
with another faceless name
for him, it's freaking hot
So stop spilling your life's blood
upon an empty page
Pick up, move on
Discover life after ungrateful ******
Write something that will live longer
than just your age

I actually like
Black and White
Tangerine dreams
are so Yesterday

White pages, Black dreams
silent words scream

Describe the word Blue
without it coming to play...

It's something born,
denied its first breath
It's skin from cold water
It's the first blush of Death.
It's the cloudless sky
that mocks the tears
in my heart.
It's the only colour
in my Rainbow
when the tears depart.
It's the colour of ice
that floats in my drink
which resides at my elbow
drowning my ability to think.
It's the colour of flame
that blazed beyond heat.
It's the reason I'm blind.
It's the colour of my feet
that walked through the snow
following your glow
to lose the path
with no retreat.
It's the colour of my mind

I repeat

I like Black and White
the colours of Nothing
Ink blots on paper,
a pinch of Blue,
and the murky Grey
becomes something
I once knew.