Not all poetry work
and not all poetry speak
but somewhere
out there
there’s a word or a phrase
that will let you learn
how to cry again

sometimes the wind picks up all the leaves
that fall from my bark and land on my knees
and all that ive thrown and all ive suppressed
gets blown back at me in my own little mess
and the rain didnt help for the rot in the muck
and now all that i see is the pain i had held
and for some Forsaken reason my
hands touch no sky
for the Grey is above and it taunts me and lies
and i thought my roots had found peace had Found truth
in the Depths of my earth
In the Silence And my youth
But it turns out compression of rock is disturbed
And now the Soil kicks
and now the ground Jumps
and The storm it yells victory in the ocean and Rust
And my body it cracks to show all of the space
where i thought homed tranquility but out birthed my rage
and All the times I’m Empty
and all the Times i smile
all false propaganda for a Stone Under trial
And That stone will go two ways
that Stone it will crack
or it’ll reach the Point and Move Mountains
itll start to Yearn Lack
And the Ball It keeps Rolling
And It Will not stop
And Now all That Time’s left With is
Carnage and Crop

and Soon I will harvest
the blood in my roots
and the quiet will Serve my hibernating
for the next unbridled pursuit

The air is made of muted colours
That vibrate with the delicate hum of light
And I’ll try my darnedest
Catching these fireflies in my palms
But they just slip like slow falling sand

And you snap your fingers
And the world turns off
And I’m back again grasping at straws
And shredded scripts
As I drag my lagging mind
Desperate to catch up to the play

But the actors heed not my calls
Of forgiveness and aid
And once again I stare at dust motes
Singing in the spotlight rain

You said you loved the colour green
The shades hidden in leaves
the froth beneath the seas

And everyone that knew you
learned to love the colour too
And now I see it
in every metaphor of you

You painted yourself a martyr with
your blood upon my blade
And now my Damascus is tainted with
your tears and rusted pain

I was forged and beaten in quiet flames
for the risings and singings of slain
And my steel would ring crystal upon their thrones
as we show what’s womanly fame

But centuries later from charred fists
I’m set into glass and displayed
Where clasped hands and smug eyes declare my dream
and exampled as womanly fate

Yet remember
Remember
It’s in your bones and blood
Smell the ash on your face
Taste the rain and the race

We were made for walking
And stomping feet
To seek their eyes and maim

For the wanderer listens for the voice in the dust
And the lost will gain what was tamed

Sisters and brothers,
Prayers and shame
We’re warriors of water and way
We had turned to a nation of gold and rubble
We’ll turn to our stones and blade

Dig dig dig
There’s dirt in our nails
and the memories in our name
Where the weeds blossom in yellow fire
We’ll drag them into our nameless graves

I was tempered and torn in the waters of faith
Where I birthed and I sang and I laboured away
Where I’ll raise an army in the songs that I wrote
And the stars that I named in my chains

Today I will shatter each shard as an edge
and I’ll cut you as you swallow my hate
And my blood will cover as testament and crown
as you prepare for my womanly reign

I’m a mess of my own creation
Made a wager on my own nature
Now I’ve lost all the sanity to my name

You said that I died when I chose my side
And I don’t know where you buried my headstone

But parallels and pain
Are common themes in my play
And I’ll live while my story’s
Your stain