She wiped her glasses
and put them on
and lay in bed
looking towards the window
she'd hardly slept

all night
the light brought
a new day
Sunday with church bells

from across the way
and the trees outside
the window swaying
Elaine still felt tired

she had tried not
to think of the boy John
who had talked to her
at school on the Friday

but every time
she turned over
he was there
talking about birds

about the skills
of the sparrow-hawk
or some such talk
had he really

talked to her?
doubts came
maybe it was just
a game he was playing

some big tease
put up to by others
to make laugh
and others please

she repeated word on word
sentence after sentence
trying to recall
his tone of voice

and those hazel eyes
of his peering
into her head and thoughts
God forbid

somethings are best hid
she thought
she'd got through
the previous day

without mentioning
about the boy to anyone
even during meals
when conversations

were strong
and always going on
she'd kept quiet
sat there staring

at the clock on the wall
or with vacant stare
the first boy
who had actually

spoken to her
and not verbally
abused or called
her names

or sniffed her school coat
and holding a nose
pretended to collapse
and die

OK
so she was frumpy looking
and shy
and the glasses

weren't her best feature
and her hair was hard
to manage and keep neat
but did he really talk to her

by the fence at school?
did he really touch her
as he went off  
to get on the bus?

closing her eyes
she tried to
picture him again
the brushed back hair

the wrinkled forehead
the hazel eyes peering
the undone school tie
the unbuttoned shirt

that inch or so
of naked skin
and turning over in bed
she tried to hold on

to the image
inside her head
and snuggle down
between blankets

and sheets
with head on her pillow
Mum said it's time
to get up for breakfast

her younger sister said
no wasting the time
daydreaming
and then she had gone

out the door
leaving it ajar
time to get up
to get through the day

wondering if he'd be there
tomorrow and would
he talk again
or was that just

a one off
conversation
a bit of a lark
but she recalled him

once more
as she rose from bed
and walked
to the bathroom to wash

and wake
and even when
she returned
and began to dress

watching her frumpy frame
in the cupboard mirror
her small *******
her hair in a mess

she kept his image
in mind
trying to find
the place where

he touched her
sensing along
with her fingers
biting her lip

this new sensation
this opening up
like being on the edge
of a new world

wondering what it was
she felt inside and along her skin
was it natural
or was it a sin?

Waterproof eyeliner is a shield, soaked
black hair, like charcoal, pressed against
frozen numb ear lobes, holding in place water-damaged plastic buds,
once blasting melodies of black and blue emotion,
with hands clenched in fists of futility.
The jagged edges of her beauty have
the ocean boiling again, and the clams
spat out bursts of fire.

It was a late weekday moon,
the beach was silent but the sound
of their heavy breaths swooped across the sand,
and their laughter rose like the waves.
“Killin’ that bottle to get smashed.”
She was convinced so eloquently,
before downing a gulp of bittersweet liquid
before drowning in a gulp of bittersalt sea.

Sarah Rose Sedwick.
Swallowed by the waves.
The icy Pacific Ocean water
claiming territory
in her lungs,
dark, salty deepness chilling to
the core of her soft bones.

A memory is written
on a clean blank sheet.
Nothing now but
a paper boat
in the wind.

It's not a statement you want to hear.
It's not a statement you want to make.
Helping someone will never be easy.
Accepting help from someone will never be easy.
Perhaps we should just hold hands and
       get
                       on
                                     with
                                                           it?

Today i entered a prison. the likes i have never seen before.

this prison has no bars,
no chains,

Disguised in false hope and fake smiles,
Leave your loved ones at the door,
We will take care of them,
Or so they promise,

as i walked down the halls of this prison,
i felt the dread,
as sorrow,
filled my head,

any happiness i felt before,
was ****** away,
nevermore,

My sunny disposition is clouded,
My chipper attitude dulled,


as their unheard cry's,
watered my eyes,

cry's of longing....

                                                    ­              ......waiting.......waiting......

Prisoners stay in their rooms,
or wander the halls,

being held captive,
only by body and mind,
which are failing,
surrounded by their own kind,

.....waiting.......waiting

For what?
family, friends, or some thing unworldly,
to take them,
with a promised return,
for which they desperately yearn,

Saying they will come visit,
Promising for an escape ....or end,
While they force a smile,
To hide the pain,

So what?
they are getting the help they need
for some it is help they don't want,
hope has already left their eyes,
now just expecting lies,

I finally reach my grandpa,
Well.... thought it was him,

This shriveled old man,
Is not the G pa I know,

Tell me your theories of life,
And how to over come strife,

you fight for life,,
Your Moore for gods sakes,
I don't expect less!

We say our good byes,
Our lies,
And give him false hope,


so he can go through his days,
in a half awake haze,
cause all he can do....

                                                         ­            ..... is wait.

First there is the prep.
The roommate.
Wearing salmon colored pants.  
He has Shaggy from ****** Doo
On his left thigh.
The alcoholic.
She has a drinking problem.
She is in denial of her drinking problem.
She hangs out with the loners.
The loners.
Unkempt, unattractive and fat in all the wrong places.
The blond looks like Tom Petty.
The one with dark hair, glasses and braces
They live next door.
Living together but segregated. 
Wild cards.
All of us.

©Gambit '13

******* and a sly grin
Mixed with a glass of root beer and gin
Then the train came running through
Oh how my heart aches for you
Like smoking in bed
Like waking up in someone’s arms
Like a lamb that’s slain
Like someone else’s blood running through your veins
Like recycled air
Like photosynthesis
Like a cloud producing rain
Like a blessing that’s a bane
Like you slurring someone else’s name
Like you saying someone else’s name

Three fingers and a stylish grin
Mixed with a glass of tonic and gin
Then the train came running through
Oh how my soul bleeds for you

Man of rags
Man of riches
            Rags clean
            Riches steal
So who has
So who's sold?