when daily news
over weeks and months
reports events that  far exceed
most people’s homespun nightmares

can we react as poets
and not be seen as cashing in on the sensation
like all the media have come to do without regret?

It may be wise not to give in
to the temptation to create ******* of violence
but try to just suggest the essence of catastrophe

a lonely high-heeled sandal on the roadside
one flip-flop much too small to fit adults
a tough man crying without shame

there are events for which we don’t have proper words

this does not mean we should keep silent

right in the face of all the everyday reports
about disasters near and far

why do we not remember
the beauty of our world
the people whom we know
who are quite wonderful  and do great things
    day in day out without much clanging
    of media cymbals or rewards

the teenager who saves a drowning man
    thinks s/he just did the natural thing

the union woman in the protest march for better wages
    believes it’s simply natural to march

the officer leading a child that lost its way
    home to the parents

the neighbor noticing that her best friend next door
    has not picked up her morning paper

et cetera    et cetera

they are the unremembered heroes
of our daily lives

methinks our media are too obsessed
    with all the bad news in the world
and over that simply forget
    that it’s the good things which allow them to report
also the less enticing aspects of mankind

I have been an avid reader of you for two years
sticking with you through every fat melting, curve creating, ‘scientifically tested,’ filling, plumping, thinning… lie
Dear Mr Magazine
I was there through every fad, every phase, every diet…
and now, it is now, it is only now, that I realise.
Dear Mr Magazine
I realise that even though I was there for you, you were never there for me
wrapping me up in your pages
I thought you were a blanket of warmth and solidarity in a world that only lied…
but you were the liar
Dear Mr Magazine you lied to me and I trusted you
I wrapped up my heart in your pages to absorb what would make me beautiful
because I could never really be beautiful, could I Mr Magazine?
Dear Mr Magazine
you gifted us with a free makeup brush and a trip to the psych ward
you gifted us with ‘TOP 10 TIPS TO PLEASE YOUR MAN!’ and an eating disorder
you gifted us with diet shake recipes and bottles of green happy pills
Dear Mr Magazine
I was an avid reader of you for two years
sticking with you even though you never stuck by me
I wrapped my trust up in your pages and you swallowed it with smiling white teeth
Dear Mr Magazine
you tear away little girls self esteem like I am tearing you now
the rip of your pages slowly pumps belief back through my heart
I cannot believe I let you control me for so long!
Dear Mr Magazine
I just want to thank you
thank your shreds lying on my bedroom floor
I just want to thank you
for showing me what it’s like to live
as a ghost of myself

My Pillow gazes upon me at night
Empty as a gravestone;
I never thought it would be so bitter
To be alone,
Not to lie down asleep in your hair.

I lie alone in a silent house,
The hanging lamp darkened,
And gently stretch out my hands
To gather in yours,
And softly press my warm mouth
Toward you, and kiss myself, exhausted and weak-
Then suddenly I'm awake
And all around me the cold night grows still.
The star in the window shines clearly-
Where is your blond hair,
Where your sweet mouth?

Now I drink pain in every delight
And poison in every wine;
I never knew it would be so bitter
To be alone,
Alone, without you.

A feel that touches the Soul,
           And sends signals to the mind,
a way to appreciate Life.