Poetry is song
to the music of the mind,
to the drumbeat of the heart
and lungs.

Set firm and fast at first,
but lilting away
into distant dreaming descants,
infused with tears
and laughter of angels,
who do not know what they say,
or what it will mean.

Or chaotic
messes brought
Together
by
Lines and spaces
and pencil traces
In night coloured
leather-bound books
But not bound
to the page for longer than
a moment.

Poetry is song,
Played a thousand ways.

This is my breakout:
The jailbird has lost her chains
She will not stay in her cage
For one more day.

This is our breakout:
The lady's not in the lake
She's fighting blade to blade
To make her own way.

I wish I could say this will be easy
I wish I didn't have to talk
I wish I could say things will get better
But they won't be 'til rights are rights for all.

Hatred in his empty, staring eyes,
Thinks he's tough,
'Cause he always objectifies.

Anger sits between his brows,
Self-inflicted,
Brainless hurting, no-one laughing now.

Pointless venom drips across his tongue,
Waiting, bitter,
Until he's sure his bite has stung.

Touch the dark,
Let it wash over your hands,
Feel its icy breath on your skin,
And leave a shining dew,
Listen as the night trickles through your fingers,
As gentle drops of midnight fall from your hands,
Catching the light of a billion stars in its surface,
Ripples of the breeze pass across the ebony,
Stirring waves to sing,
And softly fill up the silent hours.

Am I no more than a stone in your shoe?
To be flicked away like empty wrappers,
Or used up batteries,

Am I used up?
Have I fulfilled my purpose?
My merit in your mind hit zero,
And plunged into resentment.

Is there no reason to keep me around?
Am I too much trouble?
Two genders too many for you?
Or is it just that you can't stand that I'm her friend too?

She does not belong to you,
So stop acting like me being near her,
Is going to hurt her.

But I guess it's too late now.

Eyes once filled with dreams
that spilled out into visions
Now dulled by time and memory
And struggle not to close

A heart once fed by love
that glowed with hope and meaning
Now beats with broken voice
And aches for other's pain

Lips once loud with stories
That weaved emotions with one breath
Now tired and silent
With no reason to speak

A girl who'd dream of futures
And speak of hope with pride
Now sits alone, with no fight left
She accepts her fate
And cries.

You illuminate the fading hope,
The growing darkness forced away,
I was blind, going in circles,
I know it won't work out,
But I want to try anyway.

I'm drowning without you,
Under the ice the heavens are pierced,
Your eyes are my guides,
Override my instinct,
When your heart's beating near.

In my head I'm running,
Dreaming one day I'll find you're mine,
I want you to feel the way I feel,
If you just change your point of view,
We're brighter than the lights in the sky.

I'm tired, I think,
But a smile is enough,
Or a laugh,
Or a hug,
Or a single word,
And suddenly I could be,
Skipping to class,
With my eyes shining.

It all comes together
The stage is almost set
The lights are in position
The mics are all in check
The costume has arrived
They’re ready for the acts
And all that's left to do
Raise the curtain, tip my hat

A suggestion of a flutter in the frail fibres of a feather,
Hanging from a whispered web of thread,
Is it breeze that disturbs the stillness?
Or perhaps the breath is that of a fantasty,
Ambitions painted on some hazy eyes,
Or songs woven in slumber,
Catching in the curves of a charm,
Gently nudging their way into reality,
For long enough to start the softest of ripples,
In a handmade dreamcatcher.

Opinions formed on popular belief,
Uninformed campaigns,
Self-destructive protests,
An anger born from hatred that won't fade,
Right intentions fall prey to tricksters,
Success assumed too soon,
Life boiled down to laws that need to change,
But people are set in firmer stone,
And even when their petty arguments and outrage
Is chipped away, they cling on to their rock,
Judgement, greed, distorted views,
Cling like limpets to a ship's hull,
And shallow words barely nudge at their shells,
Our minds are set too soon,
Stubbornness fills us like concrete,
Holding back generations.

Kicked off computers,
Failed songs,
Drawing bees on arms,
Two sets of glasses,
Learning names,
Pulling out hair,
Confused by triangles,
Wearing white scarves,
Horror hangman,
Lighting techniques,
Stealing phones,
Trying to teach,
Laughing for no reason,
Creeping each other out,
Staying in late.

School - *"fuduckulous"

Over their shoulders,
Round their waist,
On their heads,
Painted faces,
Badges, flags, banners,
On display,
Unashamed,
And even in the air,
Resting on the breeze,
Confetti proclaims our song,
Our word,
Our anthem:
Love is love

Those red petals,
Floating from balconies,
Like the leaves in autumn,
Or blossoms of spring,
Dyed in deep crimson,
Blood.

Each worth thousands,
Of lives,
Lost over hundreds,
Of years,
To the hands of,
War.

Death and endings
and broken friendships
fill those paperback walls.
Fear mixed with love
and running and crying,
ink's running as fast as tears fall.

Hope and twists
and unexpected diversions
are twisting my mind back and forth.
Other lives and dreams
and innocent bystanders
are pointless as I matter more.

Why was I chosen?
Why my voice and mind?
Why must my life be broken as I watch the world unwind?
Whose hands on the strings?
Whose story do I tell?
All I know, I must show you, and you must listen well.

My eyes are glaring,
I'm screaming inside,
And broken hopes fill my mind.

My hands are tense,
They're crushing competition,
In imagined fights.

My twisted mind won't stop shaking,
It's bleeding within,
And losing fast.

My rage is building,
Hurts more than it ever had before,
Until it's snapping my soul in two.

My pain I thought had gone returns,
For another round of torturous jeers,
Aimed at myself.

My destiny is uncertain but my anger lives on,
It never leaves through every corner of my life,
Always ready to lash out and destroy anything.

Once something starts moving,
It's hard to bring it to rest again -
One word can become a future,
Deflecting the course of truth.

Further and further we fly,
Off into the unknown,
Beyond knowledge and fear
Into some new light.

Or hint of a light,
That we wish we could see
clearly enough to know
We were going the right way.

I'm staying up too late again
Listening to songs that make me cry
And I'm wasting away hours
That I could use for...something at least
So little purpose these days
So little meaning
I know the dream is coming
Just, it's too far for now
My life is a phone off the hook
Stock music crackling to no-one
Waiting for someone to pick me up
And lead me on.

I'm not dead,
Nothing changed,
Just because you see me different,
Doesn't mean I'm not the same.

I'm not lost,
I went the right way,
Just before I followed blindly,
In fear of what you'd say.

I'm not confused,
I know who I am,
Just because you don't get it,
Doesn't mean I give a ****.

Don't tell me what's in my head,
I know far better than you.

Would it be so hard to open the door?
Would it be so difficult to let myself escape?
Would there be any loss in leaving this place?
Would I really mind if I could see again, rather than sitting here in the dark?
Would it make any difference to let my skin feel the warmth outside?
Would it be any worse if I was out there than if I stayed here?
How much would it hurt to accept the open air?
Would it hurt at all?
Maybe it would.
But I guess I'm getting desperate now.
So why not?

The sky turned a grey shade of yellow
And the trees bent to the breath of the gods
The air screamed, as bark ached
And splintered and fell.

Rain turned to bullets, ricocheting from windows to ground
Secure became vulnerable
Heat became anger
Our sanctuary turned against us
We cowered and marvelled
At the power intent on our destruction
And took pictures of impending demise.

The blue of the day is muddied into grey,
Littered with smoky clouds,
Colour sapped from the world,
Reds and greens all become brown.

The sun runs out of steam,
Freewheeling into night,
Letting twilight take its hand,
And drag away the bright.

A brief hint of purple,
Before blue, navy and black,
Broken up with pinpricks,
Glistening, flickering back.

Death is not the end
As long as memories live
Your story remains

What reason do I have to be angry?
I have lived in comfort
Never doubted the safety of my future
The hardships of this world
Have breezed past me, barely moving my clothes
Of course I have faced trials
Don't we all?
But I never had anything to blame them on
For the most part they were unfortunate
Or inconvenient
No, I have never had reason to be angry.
Yet, sitting like a knot in my throat
Some tumour filling my stomach
Rotting slowly
An undeniable frustration
That I watch my friends' and strangers' lives
Falling apart, cut-off and left to stumble on
And where I see no reason not to help,
Those that can see no reason to
What reason do I have to be angry?
None, not really - but what reason do we have?
We have far too many to count

Five hundred days, I've written,
About whatever came to mind,
Or eye, or hand,
And some days I struggled,
To find new words, new truths,
New sights, new sounds,
New concepts or new ideas.

And sometimes I put it off,
(Like these words I write right now)
And said "I can do it tomorrow."
But I never want to give in,
For I refuse to admit I have run out of inspiration.

I never will.

Everyday I see new things,
From different angles,
Through different filters.

I will not run out of words,
For at least another half-millennium,
And by then, why stop there?

I started out,
Young and free,
I saw the world's simplicity,
I played with my trains,
And my sister's dolls,
As my naïve self had not yet been told,
"These are for girls,"
"These are for boys,"
"Don't play with her's, these are your toys,"
And as I grew up,
Movies were seen,
And we made up games of what we saw on the screen,
No one, not once,
Noticed when I chose,
To play the characters who wore pretty clothes,
I was an odd mix,
Though nobody saw,
That this was just the start, so much else left in store.
Then STOP.
...
This bit's hard to tell,
It filled me with tears and sent me to hell.
Cruel fate decided,
To bring into view,
The one who caused more pain than I was due,
For six long years,
I looped and cycled,
Through pain, fear, regret and downright suicidal,
I stopped sleeping,
For fear of my dreams,
And reality began bursting its seams,
At the end of those years,
I prepared for the end,
I readied the way for me to descend,
Then STOP.
...
A message that saved,
To which I owe the rest of my days,
I started piano,
Remembered to write,
Made a film which turned out alright,
Played in a band,
For a year or two,
Visited Paris with the musical crew,
A girl I met there,
Became a best friend,
And showed me a website which helped me no end,
Then after a slip up,
We became more,
Now someone else for me to care for,
She persuaded me,
To try and write a book,
In a single month, with any luck,
Then three days later,
She ended our bond,
Breaking us up in music room one,
It knocked me off balance,
Shaked me up a bit,
But a few weeks later, my first real hit,
A poem a day,
I pledged to produce,
And through regular words began to deduce,
More of myself,
Revealed over time,
Mostly with rhythm, rarely rhyme,
Then another girl,
Came into the mix,
Didn't last long as the hurt wouldn't fix,
Then something happened,
I didn't really think,
In trying to help I made our hearts sink,
Then STOP.
...
I realised at last,
That there was more to me than I'd said in the past,
A second soul,
Of female design,
Is living inside this heart of mine,
My best friend then,
Gave her a name,
And so, to the world, I introduced May,
To my surprise,
I faced little resistance,
At least until I went the full distance,
I revealed to some,
Hid from others,
But worst of all, telling my father and mother,
One particular friend,
Supported, not judged,
And the friendship we had soon became love,
Of course there was,
More to it than that,
But I could talk for hours about her and "Hold Back",
Exams and revision,
Stole away my days,
All of the time started running away,
Then they were done,
And summer came,
They're finally here, those lazy days,
I'll be honest,
My life hasn't been great,
But I've got though it all and I can deal with hate,
So bring it on!
Let's add another page,
To the book which details my thoughts at each age.

A bullet hole,
In fragile glass,
Overkill.

Cracks develop,
Reaching out,
Transparent valleys.

Stability lost,
Splitting now,
Shards fall.

The whole pane,
Collapses with,
Faint echoes.

Hit the floor,
All,
Finished.

'We made it!' Comes the cry,
Our eyes flicker open as the sun rises,
The darkness finally gone,
The daylight growing.

We stretch,
Lifting our heads to look to the light,
Or frail arms and palms open,
Soaking in the warmth.

And soon our faces are filled,
With joyous colour,
Vibrant yellows, purples, reds,
All screaming with the excitement of a new day.

We hear the buzzing of insects,
Filling our hearts with hope,
That this year we will pass on,
The wonder of life again.

And every one of us smiles,
When we see children playing amongst us,
When we see new birth,
We cannot help but turn to the sun to say:
*Thank you

Numbers flying,
Filling my head,
When digits aren't the answer,
But words instead,
When randomness is ordered,
And certainty is dead,
When structure is creative,
And poems left unsaid,
Because numbers are not lifeless,
They're just waiting to be read.

Starting well,
All as planned,
No surprises, no shocks,
Still I have a bad feeling about this.

A slight hint,
That something's not right,
But it doesn't matter too much,
Still I have a bad feeling about this.

Foundations tremble,
The first rocks falling,
Then landslide, disaster, outrage,
I had a bad feeling about this.

Perhaps I'm too young to understand,
Perhaps I'm a hipster,
Or a rebel,
Or an idiot,
Perhaps I see things from the wrong angle,
Perhaps I've been lead astray by propaganda,
Perhaps I'm just causing trouble,
Perhaps I'm insecure,
Or angry,
Or foolish,
Perhaps I get in the way,
Perhaps I don't think about the consequences,
Perhaps I make bad calls,
Perhaps what I say makes no sense,
Perhaps everything I stand up for is false and invalid,

But you know what?
I couldn't care less.

The tiles are a sky of blur,
Blending into fantasised colours.
My limbs are mere complications,
Ignored as my mind closes.
The pain in my head is fading,
Replaced with a numb sickness.
I am drowning in black air,
My muscles disobeying command.
I can't feel anything,
My nerves are protecting themselves.
My stomach is ripped to shreds,
And twisting in on itself.
Breaths are irrelevant,
I must remain...I must remain.

This place speaks in ink,
In pixel-perfect scrawls,
Drafts are in the past,
Replaced by a backspace
Key in a keyboard that plays songs
In words not sound.

Inspiration has no value,
Unless it makes you rich,
Who writes for fun?
No marks, no grades, for wasting away
Hours on crafting power,
Into words.

The language we've learnt,
Is disposable, recyclable,
Play-the-game cheatable,
Not truth but jumping through hopes,
No reward for moving forward,
Creativity by method.

Dear God, mother and father,
You created every part of me, blessed me with a soul,
Filled my heart with love, the world with colour,
Gave me freedom to make my own way.

Mother, I do not understand why I was forged within this body,
Why a girl would be placed within this shell,
But you have made me unique
And allowed me to feel true liberty.

Mother, you surrounded me with love,
With people who accept me as your daughter.
Thank you for them, and support them,
As they try to understand.

I am sorry, Father, for the times I did not trust,
When I believed my being was a punishment,
For when I failed to see your light,
And saw only shadows instead.

Thank you, Father, that you were always there,
And your hand kept me from falling too far.

Keep me safe from those who would harm me with words,
Let their hatred be drowned out by love,
Protect me from those who would hurt me,
Let their anger be calmed.

Thank you, Father, that I know I am safe here,
Please stay close to people like me who aren't safe,
And give them a place, somewhere to escape,
Somewhere to live without fear.

Mother, I pray for the future of this world,
When irrational hatred has faded away,
But for those already cut down by hate,
Bring comfort to their families and all who stand with them.

Mother, I ask that their legacy be one of change,
That their deaths be the last, so that eventually,
We will have no need of mourning.

Bring understanding,
Bring compassion,
Bring empathy,
Bring change,
In the hearts of those who judge without reason.

Mother, your love has no limits,
It reaches beyond all earthly barriers,
Past these walls we build to separate.

Each of us is equal and beautiful in your eyes,
So help us to see the beauty in others,
And in ourselves,
Guide us, Lord, to a world where all stand together in love.

Thank you Lord, my mother and father.

Amen

In an instant,
The shades turn to pixels,
The beauty pulled and twisted into,
Strings of numbers.

A perfect imprint,
A reflection of time,
In a misty mirror,
A sun-lit filter.

And there on the screen,
At 7:49
The words for which I've waited
But never believed were mine

I'd prepared myself for failure,
Readied for defeat,
But now all fear is lifted
And I cannot speak

Because my future is secured
A degree awaits my hands
And beyond it so many options
I never thought I'd have

And I know, for once, I earned this
I worked hard, I pushed myself
So whatever comes of this
I deserved to do this well

Trudging through life,
In the midst of the storm,
Wading through water,
In wearing-out boots,
Grateful at least,
That my feet for now,
Are dry,
But knowing soon,
The water will rise,
Too high,
And I'll feel the cold,
Cling to my skin.

But then,
A smile, a splash,
Or something,
Will distract my thoughts,
Away from self-pity,
To the eyes of my friends,
And the never-fading,
Joy that can be found,
In them,
Even if they can't see it,
Themselves.

I cannot comprehend how anyone
could be willing to destroy life
for no more than fear
for nothing greater than revenge
and less, unfounded hatred.
That anyone could even try
to shatter the future of children,
teenagers and parents alike
twists the mind.

I cannot comprehend how it must feel
to lose a child, friend or brother so quickly
with no warning and no chance
of escape from the crush of
uncompromising grief.
How to deal with the brutality
of a barbaric assault on
dignity and humanity with
nothing even close to closure.

I cannot comprehend how quickly
cheers turned to fear to nothing.
It hurts all the more
because we cannot say "Why?"
For fear of the silence.

A light, three tiles, another light,
Not white but tinted: blue, pink, green,
The ceiling's closer, muffling my thoughts,
As it deadens the voices around.

The window's open a crack,
A slim strip of sky let in,
But the air is dense, filled with heat,
And dry confused conversations.

The wall is plain, just white,
But washed in the yellow reflection of day,
The only colour here needs a good eye,
Otherwise, all is grey.

I don't write about God
Not often
When I try I feel inadequate
Or I fear somehow offending
Or alienating
Someone I wish was saved

I don't write about God
Not easily
How to describe something
So ingrained in my being?
Closer even
Than my bitter struggles

I don't write about God
Not enough
Not because I can't
Because it's difficult
But after all
Difficult is no excuse

So let's talk about love
Let's talk about forgiveness
Let's talk about sanctuary
Let's talk about comfort
Let's talk about escape
Let's talk about freedom
Let's talk about what you need right now
And let's talk about doing something about it
That's my God

Boxes
Collecting the life I need to take
Leaving behind the trivial
But for a few small comforts

Piles
Sorting my belongings into
Future and past
All the eccentricities I've collected

Lists
Making sure nothing is forgotten
So I will be safe to settle
In some distant room far away

Time
Drifting slowly but
Accelerating towards
Well...I don't know what yet

Something new