Words are what we have
In my mumbled jumbled mixed up mouth.
They are the radiance of me, my outward display
A verb is not doing as I am
The description burns and curls at the edges
The prose is my verse rushing through my loaded mind
The summary of me, can you see?
Can you see through me to the words I write.
Like a script I write my outward display,
But mainly with words, I don't know what to say.

What I ink to my page is not poetry,
There is not rhythm or rhyme, nor reason.
The empire state is no structure to my art.


What stains my page is not creativity,
Squiggles and lines leave marks from my mind.
The blank canvas does not lead to my masterpiece.


Words are my patchwork quilt,
Adjectives and nouns thread together my memoirs.
There's no glamour in my prose.


What I ink to my page is not poetry,
nor is it my intellect or wisdom.
What I ink to my page is life.

She's sick to her stomach of your ******* promises,
Of the nights you promised to bring happiness and brought pain.
She swallowed you up in the pit of her being
And you Gargled inside her making her spit and splutter,
She's in the gutter.
And while she's down you pump your poison through her veins with nothing to gain, numbing her brain.
Yet again, you mask the pain.

It hurts to see your feeble bones draped with colourless skin,
your eyes sunken back into your soul,
your smile withers at the edges and theres a tremble in your talk.

I miss you although your not gone,
I miss the way you only ever rotted on the inside,
I want to reverse the evil axis of time.

There is no sympathy without loss,
and without loss there is hope,
a dark deathly tale of hope.

a rain shower will not mend your wilted flower so I keep dry,
whilst onlookers fail to understand why my heavens wont open.
I remember you, the way the sun still shines.

I like you, not least because your words inspire me and encourage me.
But because your strength empowers me and I feel it as you have felt it.
In a not quite right "way" in a scribbled out ripped up way that only two sides of the same coin will ever really understand.
I like you because there's so much of you that reflects in my mirror of secret tales and windy whispers. I wouldn't tell them either.
Those bunch of perfect flowers that blossom so perfectly despite the rain. I am that same seed that never quite stems roots that always wilts.
I like you because you know that normal is an ideal.
Normal is not real.

My poem is a topic of sadness wanting and emptiness, if my heart breaks it's not the way you envisage.
You reached me with your verse a tide connected my topic out there to yours.
Our letters and words entwined like I felt something as you did,
In a time or place we don't know. Out of prose. I saw your wisdom and it inked my page.
There's a train of thought that carries words from one to another.
I was at the station patiently waiting for it to stop.
You got off.

Theres a place where I go,
its harmony and bliss and worries roam like clouds over someone elses head,
my footsteps are smaller, I'm lighter and happiness is here.
This place is a secret garden, there are others here too.
They are not my friends, yet there is comfort in their vacant stares.
They are floating too, high on forgetfulness.
Masking some other unfortunate reality that we can not escape.
Once the gate locks its difficult to remember why its so bad here.
Why my "happy" place is darkened by recreational neglect and uncomfortably bright sounds.
Reality is just an echo in my heart.
My want to go home fights my urge to stay and it rips through me. It always wins.
Theres a trick that the magician hasnt shown me yet.
I want to go home, but here I forget.

There is lava at the core,
It beats hot thick.Red.
bubbling calmly at the centre,
Sometimes it rises slowly, daring to erupt,
but it can never be,
the mighty eruption could not tame,
its a danger to the villagers clutching at its side.
A cool shudder forces back down.
The bubbles boil away.
It will not erupt today.

In her future she will gaze at you across a feast of pleasant remarks and thirsty laughter and you will not know her.
You will not know her in the past when that very act drowned her at her dining room table amongst guests whose stares cursed her soul. Watching every bitter sweet taste.
What will she waste?
Presently she is tasting the idea of you, sweet. Palatable. She is swallowing her life one mouthful at a time patiently waiting for your heart
to be served.

What do we do without words?
What's an explanation with letters?
Add an exclamation will that do?
What can I say to you?

What do we do without words?
How do I paraphrase my heart?
A new paragraph I'll start again.
Will you understand me then?

What do we do without words?
Does my grammar really matter?
Can you hear that full stop I chose?
A b c I'll conduct my prose.

What do we do without words?
What's a mumbled jumbled phrase?
What do we do when words aren't enough?
I'll close my mouth and show you love!

Can a she be a she without a he?
Can a stranger define sexuality?
Points and whispers are they all worth our while?
Or are days made simpler wearing denial?

Shadows of judgement cast an iron view,
Chatters and mutters of "look, is it true?"
Worries of being out or going in,
Knowing whether to cleanse or live in sin.

Underground parties let freedom rejoice,
Open your heart and give way to your voice.
Society judges all of the time,
But my sexuality will always be mine.

Can I see you're ID? That's what you'll ask me.
And my chubby cheeks will match the faded grey ones you see.
You'll know my address or at least the address im pretending to be.
You don't care about my favourite colour or how I like my tea.
You don't even care if that's not me.
As long as I look as I appear on the tin
I'll get in.
You'll parade me through knowing that you've seen my Card.
IS THAT ME?
I match the card I hold in my hand and that's all that stands.
Nobody cares that I liked steps or that it took me three days to choose this dress.
My hair looks the same and you'll check my name.
I'll play your game.

He was the doctor who saved your life,
He was the waiter who made your night,
He was the friend you always had,
He was the worlds greatest dad,
He was the man you'll never know,
He is a boy who'll never grow.
Can't you see what we've done wrong?
We left him out there all alone.
We are the reason the seas are red.
It's our fault the beach boy's dead.
He was the toughest lesson of all,
While power rises more will fall.
Stop and think what's this for?
No more bodies on the shore!

You can not feel the temperature in the pools of my soul,
The cool stare peers out onto the life I could not have,
the life I did not lead.
sometimes I grieve.

Behind those open lids lives a history of wishes and dreams,
never accomplished but no longer missed,
childhood sparkles like glitter and gold
my stories untold.

untold stories of parks and rivers linger in my mind,
trying to find the roots, thats where it all begins, i think?
in a time or place that child was me,
it was not here, I was not free.

There's a bomb, time ticks on pushing me to the ground it's never found, what eases the soul body and mind. I can't find it. The realisation within its not there I'm not free. I long to be and to see, to wish and want to let go. What we hold is not dear. It's not there it's not me. What can I be? The control is gone, what do you want?

I'm lighting a candle without a match.
i have no light.
i am no match.

darkness.

It's battered.
Worn around the edges,
Off colour.
It doesn't seem to work.
The buttons stick in.
It's darker,
It's lived in a lifeless place.
It's faded,
A fade that goes from the inside out.
It's wobbly,
All loose on the outside but hollow in.
It's picked up thrown down,
Torn up and rubbed out.
It's worse than bad and older than its age.
life put me down.
It's broken she said.

If I was inside out you’d see a heart that’s full pumping love through a roadmap of veins
You’d see a mind of thoughts scattered across mountains
You’d smile at eyes that look in and a soul that shines out
In the guts there’s nerves, excitement, butterflies
They say on the inside there’s true beauty,
On the outside
There’s just me!