Not til the third
maybe fourth
deep sip
of sweet tea
does my body
begin to cushion
the boneknocking
rhythm of
the drumming
that has rolled
it's welcome
like carpet
over the dark hours
and the Wessex plains;
my face is one
of sleepless thousands
turned east
waiting
the return
of a warm
hearted friend
for the longest of days,
I stand in
fields of good wishes
and the impossible
blue giants
of Preseli feeling
wet grass
between my toes
remembering
another June day
breaking
in a place
not so very far
from here
where the drumming
was the beating
of club
against flesh
and the wetness
at our feet
was dripping and brutal,
I see others
that share
the taste
of undiluted bitterness
and still others
watching strangely
the strange folk
old enough
to know (better?)
than to curse
the footfall
of each passing
police issue
boot; some wounds
time heals
in it's own time
and though
we grow older
I would be glad
now if time
hurried a little;
a gentle breeze
smooths the fields
softly dropping
fine mist
over my ghosts
that thickens
like dark cloth
on the eastern hills,
collectively we stare
at the distance
willing a tear
through it while
up above our
heads there is
a pink sky calling
for the red sun rising
and we are here,
as we always
are, to remember
our tales and bear
witness.

Ayomi you've axed my heart,
It bleeds as sea,
No point of start,
The heart of me,

His walls are smashed,
Roofs suddenly rust,
Our love bashed,
You let loose the trust,

The one I strongly fethered,
My wings you've also clipped,
Now only you can bring him fethered,
Hasten as the time ticks right,
So your reappearance kills not the heart with fright!

The common desire to define ourselves is defeaning and my ears are ringing. I'm searching for the foundation of the sound, the definite core where I grow from the ground. I have the power to water my basis but instead I let the impression of myself through anothers biases dry up and dust away. I'm kicking rocks below my barefeet, hoping that when I spread and share my air the opinions of who surrounds me wont pollute it to the degree where I can no longer breathe. And now im rocking back and forth in this creeking wooden chair, the roots of relative minds rested below me reminding me what was once there and whether or not something tangible will result when the inevitabilities of life chop me down and leave me bare.
So I guess until tomorrow, or a week, a month, a year, I'll disintegrate into the soil before any of my peers and it won't hurt so bad to be left alone when I know their roots above still continue to fully grow.

I was raised in a house that seemed big on the inside
With a garden that was larger than the rest of the earth.

My bedroom was shared. But there was more than enough room.
So proportionally, I always felt small.

The curtains were vines in a furniture jungle
The bookcase a tower of riddles.

I used to spend my days inside the wardrobe
Because I heard there were whole worlds inside of them.

The sofa was a cloud, I liked to sink into it.
The bathtub an ocean, that I was constantly floating adrift in.

The TV screen might as well have been
A stage compared to me when I was younger.

Even the cupboard was a cavernous place, my sparrowbone limbs
Would fold up only slightly, but still there would always be too much space.

Space blank as a bullet hole
Like the gaps between stars.

An absence you're constantly falling through. When you're so tiny,
And surrounded by nothingness, its easy to forget that you're not nothing too.

I was compressed in the classroom behind a scrawl splattered desk
The lines of graffiti looked mammoth.

The teachers were giants
And I was just jack

They ground up my brains to make alphabet stew
And gave me only a handful of A, B's and C's back.

The playground was Olympus, I was acting atlas
I felt as though the whole world was on my shoulders.

See I was a really loud kid, always shouting out
Because I thought that was the only way to get anyone to hear me.

Lungs like an opera singer by the age of just nine
And in the habit of using embellishment.

I've been where you've been kid,
I've seen it all.

I know exactly how the sight of a bullies hand-down button-up
Can be enough to make you choke...

Sometimes it still is enough.

And I know I don't look so tiny now
I expanded as I grew more constricted.

Trying to compensate for the empty place,
I had made a habit of occupying.

See I understand, I know
But I promise you, one day you'll stop standing under things
Find your feet and grow.

The leaves of your family tree do not define
Who you'll be
You do not have to hold up those branches all alone.

And I know I look so small right now
But in here, in here
I'm mammoth.

And I promise the world is not so nothing filled
When everyone is giant.