When water became water, not lemon and lime,
I drank for the pleasure, not to pass time.

When bread became bread, not pizza and cake,
I'm hearing my stomach, and it needs a break.

When danger becomes danger, not fear on a screen,
I stopped checking corners for foes unseen.

When fire becomes fire, not mirrors and smoke,
my friends sit together, and nurture our hope.

When food becomes famine, and future unknown,
we'll treasure our friends, instead of our homes.

Horizon of heard words bring
feelings
new and relieving
receiving
messages from myself
to be passed to someone else.

Like birth I breathe my
first lesson
in learning a new obsession.
A whole new world
completed by curiosity
and only in generosity of voice
was I shown the choice we each make
to hide and to fake
to fear that we are
no more than animals with complex speech
and we reach desperately to find
some notion that we are tools
but in truth we are without rules
and can experience as much as we are willing to believe.

Shut off the device: phone, tv, speaker
Stop the scrolling, binging, and rotting
Notice how small the world gets when the only problems are at your door
At which point it is your choice whether you answer the knocking

Stressors that were not meant for us shrivel
Less distractions to impede our walk
Less comments to knock us down/leave us crippled
Less idols to build our foundation on, in place of the rock

If given thought, each clip attaches us evermore to the past
For that was when they were made
By the time they reach our eyes to see
Their time has passed so hastily
And fleeting time wasn't made to last

So sit in a room and stare at the walls
That for a moment hold you in confinement
To be present where you are, in your own little world
Is peaceful however you define it

A racing heart beating into wine
But not of her usual consumption
Though eyes, nose, and mouth do collide
If you could picture the sky melting
From a polluted pumpkin patch
To the ocher yellow drawl of a sunny day
You would meet me in the autumn rhythm,
Sinking into the scent of raspberry-poisoned honey.
Eat me in the form of pomegranate-shaped pearls
The tool of Winter’s maker seeks contrast
Of a thorn’s peck on fragile snow.
Marmalade, you are my mauve-colored sheep
Sing your song through the fangs of a monster's breath
I sink into your embrace wild and vivid with jeweled-toned eyes

Am I too much?
Hard to swallow, a bitter pill?
Am I raw and unprocessed,
Undiluted, concentrated,
Too spicy for your stomach?

Good.

Choke on it.

I won’t cut myself
To bite-size pieces.
I am not a convenient product.

My feathers are not plucked,
My hair is unshorn,
My feet are unshod,
And the muscle of my thigh
Is for kicking, not meat.

Do you not like the taste?
Poor spoiled glutton,
You cannot acquire it.

Find your refined sugar elsewhere –
I do not come pre-packaged.

delicate moths wish
to kiss
  your oxygen-eating fingers,
   as you gently consume
    sun-dried limbs
     of monster-trees.

     your dear children,
    born of the plant flesh
  you disintegrate,
dance on the whistling breeze.

should one of your young
  dare to tiptoe
   on brittle blades
    of winter-deceased grass,
     she will grow
      more impressively
       than you,
        her mother.

    she will indulge
   in tender gluttony,
  softly swallowing whole
the homes
of woodland denizens.

conceived of woodpecker houses,
  her own daughters
   enter the world,
    spread their mother's warmth,
     just as your sweet baby
      did with yours.

and forever you burn.

In order to perceive yourself as worthy;

How many more achievements must you accomplish?
How many more ‘wins’ must you have?

How many more followers must you have?
How many more likes must you have?
How famous must you be?

How many more characters must you create?
How many more images of yourself must you envision?
How many more masks must you wear?

How many more versions of the ‘self’ you need to create?
How many more ‘to become’(s) must you be?

How many more times must you reinvent yourself?
How many more times must you meet yourself?

How many more of your parts must you hide, silence, ignore, suppress, and crush?

What more must you consume to come to know your worth?
What more must you pretend to be till you allow yourself to ‘just’ be as you are?

There is no amount of ‘doing’ that elevates your self worth
There is no amount of sins that can ever depreciate your worth

The ‘self’ is eternal
The human’s ’worth’ is a sacred eternal gift
A gift that can never be robbed

In this acceptance
There is no longer a chase to actualise the true authentic self into this world

In this acceptance
The magnificent self emerges

Thank you for being here.

By NwK

download instagram, download twitter, download what’s-app, download flickr,
update I-message, update linkedin,
restore photos from iCloud bin
back-up Tinder, back-up Scruff
X’d twitter, doomscrolled enough
access Pinterest, access Ring,
screenshot snapchat, Grindr ding

face-id open, passcode close
settings, delete find your iPhone
close friends, bank app, sort code,
messenger, poke, block, link, follow, repost livestream selfie be real location tag pin dropbox camera notes volume up siri off
Wi-Fi on,bluetooth disconnected 3G 4G 5G
which account do I logon?

safari, google, duck duck go
buy apple, by android,
huawai’s cheap though

forget this for you page
forget this Alexa home
forget this algorithmic poetry
forget this phone

Tender flesh, pale & thin;
Cigarette burns pock cratered skin.
Entrails that entail, poison foretaste.
Hidden, not much to be read, that
Of false smiles, on a plaster face.
The cancer within,
Almost at its brim,
Building to the self-consumption
Surely bound to take it's place.

creation like an all-consuming fire
splintering sense of self until a chest fills with bone shards

aspirating ***** / spitting up blood
if only for the sake of the

tradition

sounds like suffering / smells like delusion
feels like an unexpected weight

and yet it is better than the silence
the silence before / the silence after

                                                          ­                                             is this love?
                                                           ­                                            is this love?
                                                           ­                                            is this love?

                                                          ­             is this it?
                                                             ­          is this it?
                                                             ­          is this it?