They used to
'dig for victory'

and
some would dig
and call it archaeology

I dug the cakes that
grandma baked for tea
and
shovelled them down.

I ordered a quire
they sent me a choir
if
I had ordered a rock
what would I have got,
salt?
crack?

I have sent all of it back.

Nine hours gone
and
it's nine twenty-one.
the day marches on
much like the infantry

the infant me
thinks they're toy soldiers
the adult
knows they are not.

ps it's nine twenty-five now

My heart sounds out
   And whispers  
Like wind chimes in the air
   For you

With gentle rest
   Our dancing steps
And hopes more light
   I wish you into this summer memory fair

Playing carousel dreams
   Of you
Just to hear

i want to grow
i want to wake up tomorrow
and do something
find the dirt
clean the water
i want to have a job
like a cog in a machine
a single cell in a human being
this is life: an infinite screen
and God is Everything
in between

Day 364.
They are at it again the
barks and bites of the gunfire’s.
It’s difficult to put them on a leash.

The bomb’s outburst of religion, poverty and gender equality.
His roar burns our inner armour.

We are in the belly of the nuclear scent our
death bed.
No words of oxygen. We have lost the fight.

And here we are smiling

a debris smile.

Help us europe.
Justine Louisy
Copyright ©Justine Louisy 2016
All Rights Reserved

Tickles of the straw fingers,
it will be alright they say.
Wave of the centre wind,
the saint’s at rest on the air’s kisses.
Join us they exclaim.

The scarlet macaw on her acclaimed throne,
art of ranking colours,
colours of a warrior’s triumph.
Rejoice in her name.
Rejoice!
Rejoice!

Bush deer content with the sound of emptiness,
the wolfs an ancient myth.
Bumbles bees retreating from the flowers,
along the yellow brick road.

The sky will never shed a tear
Today.
Tomorrow.
Next week.
Next month.
Next year.
In life.



Gabriel meadow. You are filled with my prospective destiny.
God bless you.

Justine Louisy
Copyright ©Justine Louisy 2016
All Rights Reserved

No room for closed minds
in a sea of writhing bodies
Plenty for the lonely
as I sit surrounded by noise
Empty but for the heaviness
inside every part of me.

Be good, be gracious, be willing
don't ruin this for them
Be happy, be into it, be excited
don't let your selfishness override.

Bending and bending
over and out of shape
Twisting this way and that
to ensure your happiness
That you get your fill
of small, beautiful, better.

But now as I shatter
all I feel is guilty
Questions dizzying
and stomach turns.

Why am I not enough?

sick of stumbling on words that don't fit
trying to sound pretty but just tasting ash on my tongue
the dirt is just dirt, not a bed for sprouting new leaves
no cultivation will help me blossom
the meagre harvest of years gone by is as good as it gets
perhaps it's time to hang up the emotional shears
it's too painful to keep trying and not make it
let me fall asleep on the moss and become part of the scenery