Who and what am I?

In my own eyes, in your eyes?


And in spider eyes?

a space to breathe – my ID is just a membership card
for the club of my nationality. rationally detailed;
but the details of it aren’t the details of my life

my identity formed in numbers, letters, and regional
placement – a birth verification code into a nameless reality;
social norms, laws to conform, my legitimacy by roadblocks
that is confirmed… how I wish it said I love to write poems

that I'm insecure of my self image in the mirror sometimes,
that ageing with grace, is more of a reminder of all the things
I wish I had done at a younger age – a collection of my desires
and experiences; the love I have to give, love I hope to one
day receive, all the places I hope to dream, a place…

sigh,




                     a space to breathe.

Other people are

good-looking, me too, sometimes --


In a small photo.

When fighting your monsters
- watch yourself
less you become monstrous.

When fighting your monsters
- watch yourself
and arm yourself with virtue.

When fighting your monsters
- watch yourself
and shield your deep innocence.

When fighting your monsters
(and you must fight your monsters
no matter the depth of the abyss)
- watch yourself
and let your true self stand.

Infinity stares back from the dark recess of obscurity
The eye that I see staring in the mirror
A faded juxtaposition reversing my faded reflection
So that I might see the me everyone else sees

Aghast at my ghastly facade
Hands trembling at the realization that this was a hallucination
And reality was just a blink away
The slow drip from the nasal cavity nauseated me
Brown bile seeped from my lips
Dribbling down my chin as two snakes tangled
Slowly suffocating me as they began constricting
Causing blood vessels in my eyes to pop from the pressure

Floating black dots consumed my sight
Tarantulas creeped and crawled upon my skin
Fine hairs tickling the tip of my nose
As it began to melt under each curved claw
Dripping in time with the sickening drops
As I gasped for air in a panicked frenzy
Vigorously washing with water in a vain attempt
To rest reality back from the grips of delusion

This time the mirror stared back
Silence... Utter silence... Then sorrow...
Crimson tears streaked down my face at the realization
That I had somehow become lost along the way of life
I had lost the I in me, deluded to the point I blinded myself to see
Anything to attempt to cover up the pain
Of being less than that man in the mirror I see
Knowing his heart has a limitless potential
That I have caused to clot in hard callouses
Self sabotaging any hope I have to get away from it all
And achieve anything of worth

I scream at myself
Wavering between laughing and sobbing
The glass shatters

There I am in pieces
Each shard a mime of a different time
Razor sharp portals

To who I was
And the fear and loathing
That led me to where I am

God came in three –
they set aside time and space
for collaborative creativity

God came in three -
and in that 'us', 'our' and 'we'
they metaphor’d mutuality

God came in three -
advocated once and for all
a celebration of plurality

God came in three -
illustrated that all families
are a godly thingamy

God came in three -
they invited us, you and me
to join them for eternity

I am stuck
in a rutt
the identity
which no longer feels like me.

She doesn’t clean
is hardly ever seen
making a healthy choice,
so when she does they rejoice

clap and cheer
supposedly sincere.
She knows they care,
but it’s because of that she doesn’t dare

change her ways
in all of her days.
so here she sits
digging herself a deeper pit,

of low expectation
low appreciation
no admiration
just pure desperation,

to get out
so she can shout
‘I’m free
and there’s no one here to see!’

A place of her own,
a carefully curated home
where there is every chance
of a little spontaneous dance,

or kitchen karaoke
okidokiartichokie.
Anything goes
an endless prose

of dreams,
finally redeemed.
Tidy places
and new friendly faces

which have no clue
'cos they’re new
and there’s no one here to skew,
the way in which they view

the life she created
and now holds sacred.
The food she eats,
the place she choses to sleep.

She is kind
and likes to find
hidden spots to go
and let the ink flow.

And she can share
her work with care
because she doesn’t have to care
who is going to care.

If they think
she is starting to sink,
or not doing enough
behind the endless bluff

then go
you're not someone she has to know.
Nobody new
will turn her blue.

That doesn't mean the people she knew
turned her blue.
She put herself in that box,
but then forgot

how she got in,
as under her grin
she started to grow.
Beyond what she could show.

So go,
somewhere unknown.
Be new and sparkly,
find someone to kindly

sparkle with you,
and never allow the gloom
anywhere near
wherever you steer

together.
Find a new forever
that is not set in stone
and will allow us to grow.

Never get stuck
in a rutt,
the identity
is now forever free