when they told me to define perfect
all i thought of was you
but i cried
punished myself -  i stood there and swore
because deep down i knew, you were always so much more.

Your shirts
hang drying
that we washed,
my son.

I recall you
wearing them,
each
and every one.

They hang there
lonesome now,
sad relics
of your wardrobe,
cast-offs
of a life
gone too soon,
cut short,
live long after me,
I thought.

I like the patterns,
the colours, too,
but on seeing them,
I’m remembered sadly,
of lovely you.

I sniff
along the cloth,
feel the buttons
that you once
did up, undid,
your fingers touch
and hug and feel,
the pain, of that,
too much.

The shirts hang
innocent, unaware,
lifeless, unworn
and cold,
I can feel them,
but want you
to hold.

Maybe I’ll wear the shirts
to give them back
some life,
some warmth,
fill them out,
give them body
to embrace,
pretend to them
I’m you,  
act out the lie,
not reveal to them,
not tell them,
I watched you die.

How
many
people
Am I?!

Some of us learn the first time
And some learn by frequent repetition
So what I would like to find
Are more tolerant participants
That are willing to be consistent
When conversing with a mind
That is needing patient assistance
And with a little extra time
We can eliminate resistance
And as one, realign
With our unified mission

Alone I ponder of how life works,
Giving me exactly what I've wanted
Then taking it away just as quickly.
Now, miles away, I still think of that night;
Things made sense for a moment.
In the dark, music playing,
We didn't have to say much.
For we knew how we felt together:
Alive.
As our lips met i couldn't help but smile,
I felt it in my heart.
And I don't feel much anymore.

A speechless hill enthused with history, stands tall.
Breathtaking,gracing the skyline of Winchester.
From the morning train, I see Lady Catherine in all her glory.
A toupee of trees on the top, discard leaf litter, as it tumbles.
Body of  plague victims interred deep in the hill.
An iron-age hill fort, a barrow minus wheels.
Teeming.
This hill’s alive with wildlife.
Steeped with history.
Stagger to the top of the beautiful beast, peep at the miz maze, a weird design.
Rest awhile, realise how beautiful it is.
Let peace be the only thing up there, to come and invade your space.
Well worth the climb, now to get down;  she's not far off perpendicular.
Gratefully wander down the man-made rickety steps.
Touch base, look up, further survey the climb you just made.
Relish those charms of St Catherine.
OLIVIA 2014

Humanity is
Promised suffering
Infinite and delicate roots
Bleed timeless torment
And misery

Hey you
can you be pure
can you  be true ?
can you stay the way you are
Cause you're cute
when you let go
of all pretenses
And all the hidden agendas
Just be real with all your senses
To what your feeling right here right now with me
surrender

Cause you're cute

you're cute  

I wanna tell you how cute you are