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Kate Copeland May 2020
The realisation that this violent red came up in me, that it had put itself out there, against my peaceful blue

hidden underneath my skin I thought, but once this/the disconnection came up, this unsafety, the red escaped 

and in an instant, alien became less distant, fluid in my daily countenance. How I've always assumed you

were the rock and I the water, how it turned out to be still and all. Me fully capable of standing my stones 

in the fluidity of waves, in this life of ebbs & flows. And even while I peak over the cliff edge, with the wind 

in my face, drawn into depth & distance - I know the cracks of then and the hills of now will become a passage,

a progress through the fragments I breathe, for the joy I feel. You went along to trust my inner world, while

you wouldn't anyway. So I decided to wend my place that provides me to dream up and survive nonetheless. 

Once your heart has jumped out of your body, the rivers & tides will smooth over. Structured daydreaming will bring

out the bright, fresh morning I need to scare off the ghosts of my lost night, a subverted realism to coast through a

clear consciousness over some guilt and uneasy vulnerableness. What's done, is done. True. Imagine that.
Kate Copeland Jul 2019
writing each other letters
like in the Brontë days
Romantic souls know
their ways and words
writing each other chapters
Too soon maturing
unto paragraphs or
solely wordings so
Out of the window where
paper becomes powder where
wind storms his thoughts apart
Kate Copeland Jul 2019
the waiting room of my psychiatrist
where I need to be because
he enables me to see reality
to master the day-today
to hold back on the tickets.
We laugh a lot and always run late though.
The flowers do calm me down
the weekly cup of tea nice and strong
and the magazines show me the best
destinations anywhere in the world
but therapy world
anywhere the flowers grow
but this crystal vase.
Why
Kate Copeland Mar 2019
Why
spend a lot of money
on therapy
or a lot of time
on self-help new age battlefields
when you can write a poem and
shake it off?
Kate Copeland Mar 2019
the discussion on dying and
disappearing languages
anglicisms changing?
Don't we all do lists of literature
reality shows from all over
soaps films songs?
Verbal expressions can be translated
you know
Verbal variety can be interesting
you do know
Why should only one conjugation
variation word or phrase be right
wrong
Never in the world
that that's possible
there would be no form to live
dress eat exercise *** enjoy art
Language rules
Where would Zadie be without Shakespeare
Hockney without swimming pools
Mercury without Montserrat
I don't know
Kate Copeland Aug 2019
She tries to capture
the world in words
to make sense of images
wavering, of queues shifting,
of lyrics sounding

and starts playing by heart
as she goes

Does it make sense she
is still so obsessed by
his love and her bitter
her light and his hate
which makes it all so

unwordable

'cause with the others none of that
'cause with them so unsubdued  

as she went
Kate Copeland Feb 2019
Your words against mine
Sword against pen
Mind against heart
Planning against pride
Kate Copeland Jul 2019
travel light
light on your feet
feet following steps
steps down the river
a river that knows
knows how to move
to move and go
go travel
Kate Copeland Aug 2019
conscious about subconscious
moves and twists she hated 

to lie but there it was

the life getting the hold
the songs where the tears
a boy where no love
a kid where no desire
no fear while a mortgage
no shame while a contract

so there it is then

the little voice holds no music
the life keeps her promises

conscious catches subconscious
Kate Copeland Aug 2019
I'm so hungry...so I'm drinking coffee
I'm dreaming of California...so I'm flying to NYC
I'm so into him...so will avoid all texts and terraces

Wanting to stay yet not willing to go,
thus staying when needing to scoot

Inescapably too many questions and ideas
Irreversibly too many given facts of lives

When there's a queue one has
to wait, feel free to fill in the rest
brains and minds solved
Kate Copeland Sep 2019
Maybe just maybe
It was not him the boy you
just fell in love with you
just started living with you
just wanted to be the one
I reckon he was rebound
instead of the very soul
not counting the amount
of time to be longer you
thought but this new one
the one you
don't dare to name
by his own name you
keep on referring to as
just a friend at the office
just someone I share my bed
just a poetry workshop and
Sure. And it's
alright clouds burst 
a spring in your step
not just a dress 
And you're all right.

— The End —