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There are bare-breasted women
lounging in the unmade bed
of my mind.
They teach me chords on the piano,
and how to stay grateful
in the face of time;
how it lingers between seconds,
but years go by unannounced.

We don't make love. We ****,
taking back each wasted Sunday
spent talking to G-d,
or waiting for political truth.
They run their fingers over my back,
send me to a sleep
of dried sweat and loving violence.
They send me sunflower seeds and ****

in the post,
so I can bloom by the open window
and feel warmth through winter.
There are powerful women
laying down the law by the clock tower.
They stand up for Syria
and challenge the authority
I had conjured in my mind.
c
you are a planet
                              
                           ­       but i am a star


*(i am bigger than you, i will burn your eyes out, and i do not orbit around you)
first--

my big brother came through the door, hoodie up,

L close behind--
a farm girl,
small features
warm eyes
Bean boots and rough hands,

i could smell the cigarettes and the new cash in his pocket.

he showed me the pipe he'd fashioned out of driftwood

the one thick silver band on his left pointer finger glinting warmth from the dining room light

and in a drunken haze i wondered if there was anything in the world he couldn't do.

second--

she set the canvas bag on the counter,
and out came heirloom apples,
and mittens
and fresh honeycomb in an old plastic container,
label worn and peeling from all the hours it had traveled, and i thought suddenly and strangely
of all the times it'd been placed in bags as an afterthought, left in the backseat of a golden texas-plated '95 corolla
                                                *(an alien up here)

warming between biodegradable soaps and pottery filled with sprouting seeds,
how many raindrops it had shed sitting on the front steps of an old clapboard house.
I've been trying to write about you for hours,
hoping the words will flow naturally,
and finally it'll all make sense.
But the hours have become days
and the words never came
so I'm just as confused as when I began.
to sleep i may, but not the dark vessel
of mine eyes, over stormy seas of placenta and albatross
tossed from the palm of  a rough hewn, Five-Headed Crane
raking five beaks across a canvass of my wounded fires -
and my brazen black honey, trembling on the lip
of mis-fortunate birth...,
in the cataract of
a fine hat
on a fat
rebel.

my public spaces engineered
to come from the inside

the wastelands are beautiful

as you gawk
at the red
sun

a bead of red plasma,
flowing from an
open vein

in a mind shaft.

with a bad back
and no front.

but a lasting gasp....
They never started the same
They crawl up on her
They become part of everything
Dispersing across floors & furniture
A plate with fresh food
Thrown, mistakenly, at a wall
Shattering, only to breed
Innumerable monsters
Too much distress to even
Identify the name of
These creatures that
Preposterously morph around
The warm cup of tea she
Once held, warming her
Terrified self.
smash
Even with closed eyes, they haunt
Leaving the undecided question of
Is this some form of disordered
Disorientating other reality?
A rhetorical question, a statement
Of none expectant response
For these are for her eyes only
Her mind & her disorder
Running tracks, stairs
Streets, towns, cities
To no avail or answer
Worn out feet of battered soles
Stumbling the miles traced
Breadcrumbs, leave a Hansel & Gretel
Trail of discord, a cacophony of deafly noise.
smash
They are the disease of the night
They are the monsters of the mind
They are the enemies attacking a naïve self
Days spent, releasing fears
Of what once were dreams
Irrevocably impossible to change
For how is she to reach
Into a subconscious mind
Where the mice are chased
Defenceless prey
Victims of themselves
Slaves of the blackened sky
Where all there is to protect her
Are crashing stars, subsuming
Her very own nightmares.
smash
Stars setting her free
Free from sinful blasphemy
Awakening memories of
Unconditional love from
The honey moon set in
This autumn sky
Where all is forgotten
She is no longer the babe in the woods
A quivering girl, but a
Woman of remarkable wonder
Sleeping in silk sheets, bungalow number three
Château Marmont, 8221 Sunset Boulevard
Elixir of life, Princess of alchemy, believer
Of exoteric knowledge, trusting a
Universe, far greater than her.
smash

© Sia Jane
*Hollywood  ****** - not heroine for a reason.
I'm made of all;
The books I've ever read
Poems I've ever written
Faces who have smiled at me
Hugs that have wrapped around me
Caresses that have graced my inner thigh
Countries & continents my feet have touched
The lovers as we simultaneously reach ecstasy within
Lonely nights shedding tear drops
Nights gazing black skies moon & stars
Children falling asleep to my heartbeat
Animals whose soul was found through reflective eye stares
Conversations spoken in French, Spanish, Italian, Xhosa, Afrikaans, Norwegian, German
Years of ******-, cognitive-, dialectical-, art-, drama-, music-, mindfulness-, trauma-, psychiatry-; therapies
The drinks & drugs & mind altering substances dispersing my mind
In all I'm made of;
Love
Lust
Greed
Fear
Joy
Freedom
Longing
Dreams
Despair
Sadne­ss
Anger
Frustrations
Happiness
Anxieties
Insecurities....

In all I'm made of;

A soul; securely contained within a body of battled scars;
over;
pain & triumphs, losses & gains, rejections & acceptances, dishonours & accolades...

With the hope; she too, can live life through.

© Sia Jane
Written at 1.53am
Pain slices through his heart
As he watches her
Once again
Beat herself with that
Whip of Intolerance
Each time he is Stunned
By the Violence
She directs at herself
His heart bleeds
As he wonders....
          as he wonders
If she will ever find
Acceptance and Tolerance
Of her self
That she so freely gives to others
09/23/2014
Pain
is
Not a
state

It's
a
Result
of an
act

It's
all
about
how
you
withstand
it
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