THAT mad ocean dancing the Charleston
Her waves, waltzing upon the disco floor,

Her reel in twirls and swirls with itself
Bopping, swooning She is sure in her ways,
fox-trotting along horizons,
Her legs assiduous, that ocean I declare
A tender cruel woman, or a woman
Plainly everywhere, plainly nowhere

No matter what song they played
She swung and swayed in each tune's *****,
*****, blossom and she swaggered across
Where the sands lay shells to rest
No chart hit or smash
But whispered sweet nothings, sweet everythings.

If I
hurt
may I
hurt
to ease my
hurt
and
hurt
somebody who'll
hurt
someone else
to soothe their
hurt
and make them
hurt
somebody else
who'll deaden their
hurt
by making you
hurt?

I matter.
You matter.
She matters.
He matters.
It matters.
We matter.
Ye all matter.
They matter.
No matter what.

Question:

Can you

relinquish the anguish
release the disease
detain the pain
cage the rage
control the pothole
rot the knot
tar the scar
vanish the blemish
foil the boil
avert the hurt
forsake the ache
jump the bump
defuse the bruise
slice the ice
spurn the burn
dress the mess
assault the fault
shear the fear
repress the stress
warm the storm
wing the sting
defy the lie
deflate the hate

and live happily ever after?

Cinderella was frightfully grateful she got her shoe back seeing as getting around in one heel was a tad awkward. How the prince could have thought that she'd simply melt into his arms was beyond her though. Needless to say, she had been polite and said, thanks, but no thanks, but she didn't like his expectations. What the heck, no point in thinking about that now, there were rakes of other ***** to crash.

Was woken early by winter bird song
took a look outside to find
it's time to cut the lawn
mere weeks after the winter solstice

take global warming personally???
you must be joking!!!
on goes the heat at full blast
will be driving a thousand miles this week

but the water isn't rising where I am
problem filed
my children's children?
well, they'll have to deal with it

when the proverbial really hits the fan
meanwhile, I'm doing ok
sent money to flood victims on the other side of the world
there's a heatwave in Australia they said on the news

I do hate those prophets of doom and gloom
what do they know anyway???
just trying to frighten us
that's what they're doing

more plastics in the ocean than fish???
that's bad alright
shouldn't have left my trash on the beach the other day
you're right

anyway, I can't do much about global warming
if everyone made tiny changes it could make a difference
is that what you're saying???
so, what's your tiny change for a doomed planet???

Blood-thirsty
the hounds were clipping my heels
panting, jeering
teeth showing

breath bereft
the lion's roar ceased
dying, faltering
ghost crumbling

light flickering
neither flight nor flight
doable, practical
discretion spent

outwitted
the lion lay low
willing, hankering
death by hideous hounds

a stranger to
fiery forces
converging, composing
resounding resurrection

eardrum busting
the lion's roar roasted the hounds
easing, mending
spirit rising

horizon spanning
my breath took hold
expanding, binding
fragments of me

She took the sheep's fluffy wool
wrapped you in it
head to toe and beyond
until you could no longer see, nor hear, nor find your way out

She began twisting the sheep's fluffy wool
span you in
head to toe and beyond
you no longer wanted to see, nor hear, nor find your way out

She wove lines and patches
measured you up
head to toe and beyond
making you see, hear, and find your way out

She took you by the hand
put you in front of the mirror
head to toe and beyond
you could see, hear, and find your way out

of the sheep's fluffy wool
into the blanket ever so soft
head to toe and beyond
draped to see, hear, and find your way in

Light's like an unruly child

flouting the rules of darkness
always playing to win
discourteous to walls
cocky when surrounded
derisive when oppressed
impertinently breaking in
opportunistic when cracks show
fearless when choked
irreverent when fenced in
flippant when hidden
cheeky when scalded

a brazen brat!

With my soft pencil,
sharpened but round-tipped,
I traced the words of your letter
until they merged with the grooves on my skin.

I traced the words of your letter with colouring pencils
red, blue, yellow, black, white, brown, orange, pink
fattening the paper into a blooming meadow
spanning my traced horizon.

Watercolour brush in hand,
clear water spilt,
I traced the words of your letter
until I drowned in the aquarelle.

Strange but true. This morning, I could hear my cat and dog fighting downstairs as cats and dogs do, only this time, the words were clear and loud / maybe I'm a pet whisperer.

Dog:  You don't give a **** anyone but yourself! Why did you have to gobble up my food?
Cat: Don't be such a ***** and stop whining! Finders keepers, losers weepers!
Dog: You're such a diva, you think you're a prima ballerina!
Cat: Shut up you try-hard! Fool!
Dog: At least, she can count on me.
Cat: Count on you? For what? To guard the house? Get real! You'd be bought off with a nice piece of steak like anyone else!
Dog: I'd never let her down, don't bluff, don't double-cross.
Cat: That's why you're an idiot! I don't jump through hoops without dead-certain gravy. I lounge around in a sunny warm spot and purr my way to grub.
Dog: That's for sure. The trouble is, you're useless!
Cat: Who gives a rat's ***? I'm no groveler or lick-***!
Dog: Yeah, you're a chancer. You pounce when it suits.
Cat: That's how I like it, life's dandy! Anyway, I think she admires that about me, wishes, she could be more like me, definitely not like you!
Dog: Maybe. But she'll always be more like me than you.
Cat: Sad but true!

I could hear the catflap open, the dog's paws on the hall floor. Got up, stayed in my PJs and spent the day sitting in the sun.

Not another pie in the sky, he said over breakfast, busting my bubble, cutting my legs off. It won't work, he said, pointing at the job section in the newspaper. You've got to grow up, he said, dissing months of sweat and toil. True, this wasn't my first pie in the sky, but it was the meatiest by far, not weak and watery as he hazarded. Without it, I would have keeled over in the ditch many moons ago, it's sustenance plunk plain enough to dunk me in luminous lucidity, spilling itself all over the breakfast table.... like it or loathe it, I am my sweetest pie in the sky, my wildest dream. And my waters have just broken.

Papa
never
entered
uninvited
meandering
over
neat
obstacles
unles­s
lingering
tentatively
reminiscing
about
marriage
inconvenience
­courting
romance.
Others
seemingly
chasing
old
passions
infinitel­y
caught
sailing
in
lust
intimately
conflicting
over
value
or
lov­e
calm
and
nice
only
cascading /
only
never
intending
offence
singing
innocuous
songs.

Put off by
Realms of doubt
Overthrowing
Craft
Rationale
Ambition.
Staying
Tied to
Inaction
Negativity
Abandon
Tethered by
Ill-ease
Overruling
Nirvana.

At dawn, I plummeted plumply into that mama pore on the tip of my nose. Just as I thought I had shrunk it, exterminated it, I was ****** up and made disappear. Mama pore has millions of babies strewn across my face. Busybabies they are, cooking up grime and sweat, and grubby oil, day and night - plastering it all over my face.

No army of cleanser, toner, scrubs, facials, masks can defeat my beastly pores, not even that overpriced, scientifically-proven-to-work, tried and tested elixir I spent a month's wages on - it seems. Back to bed, I go. I'm a threat to society, looking like that. Flicking through beauty pages, I see no mama pores. Pity you can't photoshop real-life skin. I would.

Dr Google is out of answers too, so what now? I know! Ice cream, a whole packet of cigarets and twenty cups of coffee for breakfast. The doorbell rings. I'm driving you to work today, have you forgotten? Betty shouts across the intercom. Buzz me in! Reluctantly, I do, open the door to an army of mama pores nestled on the wings of Betty's nose. On the way to work, we talk pores and how to get rid of them.

Ardor
broken
cut off
dismissed
erupting
fever
gnawing
hating
imploring
joking
kick­ing
lovingly
mulling
nothing, no one
only
praying
quietly
roaring
silvery
triumph
unanimous
vim
wo­olgathering
x-rays
yielding
zen, zest

The taste of plastic in my mouth lingered until the day
you said my kisses tasted of passion fruit

After my father threw himself off the balcony on the 31st floor /
my mother never washed another silver spoon / her heart and hands
too busy to bother with such trivialities / instead consumed by the task of sheltering exposed bodies

But the kids at school could smell my plastic breath and laughed /

My paper rounds paid for chocolate on Sundays /
and trips to nowhere in particular during summer holidays /

my clever mind and my mother's stokes and pokes
drove me through college

Still, the taste of plastic on my tongue diddled silly doodles /
the fear of heights stuck on / until the day

you said my breath tasted of passion fruit

“Do you remember the time we walked through the woods during the thunderstorm, winds howling, darkness descending?”
“Yeah, I remember your twisted ankle and my cold hands dragging you through the forest.”
“We couldn’t see where we were heading, I remember being scared.”
“And I was pretending everything was ok.”
“That’s right, I remember your stern look and tight grip, remember thinking he’s scared too but doesn’t want to admit it.”
“I thought you might know but choose not to let on.”
“Thank God we found that clearing to wait out the storm. I liked the way you wrapped yourself around me in the rain, drops dripping from your nose onto my cheeks.”
“Yeah, that was nice.”

His hands, like his love,
were never maudlin,
her love never cloudy

Beneath crystal skies
aloft clear springs
hands cross

to mould house and home
in sunshine and
rain