So stick up ivy and the bays,
And then restore the heathen ways.
Green will remind you of the spring,
Though this great day denies the thing.
And mortifies the earth and all
But your wild revels, and loose hall.
Could you wear flowers, and roses strow
Blushing upon your *******’ warm snow,
That very dress your lightness will
Rebuke, and wither at the ill.
The brightness of this day we owe
Not unto music, masque, nor show:
Nor gallant furniture, nor plate;
But to the manger’s mean estate.
His life while here, as well as birth,
Was but a check to pomp and mirth;
And all man’s greatness you may see
Condemned by His humility.

Then leave your open house and noise,
To welcome Him with holy joys,
And the poor shepherd’s watchfulness:
Whom light and hymns from heaven did bless.
What you abound with, cast abroad
To those that want, and ease your load.
Who empties thus, will bring more in;
But riot is both loss and sin.
Dress finely what comes not in sight,
And then you keep your Christmas right.

Mum, I have dreams
that I wish would come true.
That doesn't mean I neglect
the ones dreamt by you.

Dad, I have wishes
that I dream at night.
That doesn't mean I feel
that yours aren't worth a fight.

Mum, I know I am difficult
and that I nag and whinge.
But your words are sometimes painful
and often make me cringe.

Dad, I know I am different
and that I prefer being on my own.
But, you always misunderstand, thinking
that I like being alone.

Mum, I am sad
and I always hide my tears
because I am unable to fathom
what is it that I fear.

Dad, I am frightened
of something I don't know.
It mortifies me so much
that I find it hard to show.

I do love you both
and I know I rarely say it
because I feel I'm born in a world
where I shall never fit.

when it hit you home.

you’re eyes closed at shutter speeds,
when the heart sinks,
or sank.
and each blink individually,
starts to take a second of your life from me,
frivolously.
and your mind focuses,
but like a broken lens,
you nictate, nictate,
like you’re stuck on repeat.
and you dictate the aftermath,
like you have admitted defeat.
as cynosure slips from your fingertips.
the closure in the locus.
you spoke to me in hindsight,
and you spared me in the moment.
still glowing, albeit, caliginously.
you described the bright lights in defiance,
lying sweetly,
in a conversation, in constellations,
i’ll remember you in full bloom;
in keepsakes;
we wished to the the stars aligned,
shining flowers for you in the nights sky.
whilst you fought for your life, in kind.
high as a kite, twinkle in your eye,
as you guide your life
away.
still in spite,
of your perdition,
the latest addition of you.
when i see you in ruin.
through the body as it mortifies,
and your fortified smile,
tortured denial,
a defiant forcefield,
shatters and eviscerate,
and as you evaporate;
i see your lips crack through dryness,
my queen and highness;
i’ve not seen you laugh for a while.
and as I see time pass,
from you astute,
a calmness in your eyes grew,
and now when you belly laugh,
you gasp for air,
it’s as if,
not much is inside there.
as you stutter and stammer,
judgement impaired,
scared.
and yellow coloured,
tinged skin,
bed ridden
in affliction,
to me,
to you.
as it dawned on me
and then it dawned on you.
when it finally hit you home,
nothing left but skin and bones,
the final petal of a rose,
fell.


**I still miss you.
I miss you still.
I always have,
always will.

A voice comes on the radio
cutting off my music
screaming with self importance
I turn it off. My music keeps going
the fine art that is “Satisfaction”
keeps coming.

The dog walker to my right
briefly stumbles
and the dog sprints
off.
A moment later a squirrel is dead.
The poor owner looks
mortifies as he scolds the dog.
I turn away to watch a pigeon fly away
as a vulture comes in before he
slips something to the dog.
I start to wonder what that may
have been
until I remember the lyrics
of my song.

“Can’t be a man cause
he doesn’t smoke same cigarettes as me”
Amen. I hit the skip button
happy with how it even
in the 60’s people were
the same as they are now

An artist comes up to me
with a peculiar  painting
“hey” he says
“not interested” I retort
before I can convince myself
otherwise.

I can’t breathe among these aspen leaves
Wind washing over a war washed face
My embrace feels lifeless now
I long for the tropical beaches of an unexplored love
With palm trees of emotion so tall
That I could climb and give the sun a hug
but a shrug is all I give you to tell others about me
So they can see if we
Should be together forever like I always thought we should
And we should
But now I’m starting to think differently
I come home and all I hear are the deafening blasts of artillery
Fill a canteen of coffee and ration it out until the battle is over
I hardly ever win a fight
And I’m not worried about victory
I’m worried that I might not survive the war
What more do you have in store for me
And I can feel the sea breeze on that piece of paradise that I pursue
That peace that I pursue
You think I’m only giving up the war to stay with you
and I would’ve gone AWOL
But I was already missing in action
You were a witness to that
But didn’t think that it was the last time you’d see me
Until I didn’t come back
Defeat became too much
and I’m happy being lost
For the time being
I’m being awful, but this isn’t my mind seething
It’s someone else’s, belonging to the stranger that came back instead
And my eyes see that I don’t belong now and the past is dead.
It’s like I’ve come back to a foreign place where the war is needless
And even though it’s beautiful
All I want is to storm the beaches.
And bring storms that reach down
to rip the trees up
at the roots that sink down
in the earth that seized up
Please just let me be
while I spend my time reading up on weaponry
And safety precautions
Studying the rules of engagement 
So next time I feel like I’ve lost it
There won’t be so **** much collateral damage
So now I manage to escape the blasts
But there has never been a peace treaty
Only cease-fires that we spend resupplying
And re-arming. I see the way you’re looking at me
A little bit alarmed because you know that I’m trigger happy
And I think it might be weeks before the peace talks will resume
so I dive for cover any time you walk in the room
because the boom of mortar fire mortifies me
And makes me wonder if there is more to life
than my thunder fighting a war with lightning
and hiding my battle scars
Resting until I’m two quarters tired
half dying spark
fading ember
But then I embark on a journey into flashbacks of landmines
in no-man’s land where the lines are drawn
where the danger never shows it’s face
after the light of dawn
because day time in the open space is a ****-zone
our memories take it slow through the cold darkness
fighting a guerilla war against me
and it’s those same memories of our war that tempt me
back to the combat zone
where the sky is split in half by an unmanned drone,
where the land is scarred with bomb craters and tank treads
where the dead wash up on the river banks and the lakes edge
where you talk in hand-signs
and you push on cause there’s no choice
but to survive the bad times
And ****** I’ve had mine
but I’ll put up a last stand
ship off to the battle again
load up and roll out ready to exact my revenge
But there was never a stranger
I’m ready to embrace what I’ve become
I admit that I’m a product of everything that I’ve done.
I’m a war criminal.
I torched the rules of engagement,
Scorched entire cities and reduced them to pavement
And you should be afraid every day that I’m alive
Because now I’m out for blood and I don’t care anymore if I survive.
I thrive on the cold glory
Gunpowder smoke is my air
I’m the saboteur
In our fight between hope and despair
knowing this war rages on
and that you’ll never make me retreat
even though I’ll hate victory
more than I hated defeat.

comfort
safety
everything I needed
& she was holding me.
forehead to forehead I'm crying
& she's so calm so slow so high so careful
not enclosing me
just there
as I'm buckling under the weight
of the pieces I've just
put together.
I'm sitting there
forever with her hand on the nape of my neck,
pixie queen eyes never faltering,
meeting my pleading
alarmed gaze. "It's okay baby girl"
she whispers it
over & over

she reaches up & presses her thumbs down on my airways shaking me & my head keeps smacking the concrete. Both a crack and a thump in my skull. But later it's me: beating her face into the floor breaking her nose her face all apart makes me feel sickeningly alive, mortifies & exhilarates at once. I'm terrified of her, yes, but more so of myself. "It's okay baby girl." Is it? Because night after night sleeping pill after sleeping pill I'm dreaming of ending it all.

Oh, of all the ways I could end.

He forages on my doubts
Keeps me sleepless with distress
The real me is envious of me
She is all he wants
Can she stand the real me?

I resent the disgraceful me
Can't look at my reflection in the mirror
He threatens my core existence
So I fight to keep him burried

He mocks, taunts and mortifies
Even as she tells me I have beautiful eyes
It is good she cant peep inside through those windows
And see the struggles inside

I keep him padlocked in the depths
Listen to music and tour nice places
But in the quietest of moments
He creeps back to me

Dampens my spirit
Telling me I am way below
Not good enough
That I will ***** up as always

It is worrying what he can do
Destroy a lifetime in a day
Turn love to hate in a moment

But I wont let him hurt her
I'll leave her if I have to

I thought college would set me free,
I turned 18 and the world opened up,
Rent and taxes and piercings and drugs,
Its all okay.
No one judges you for being wild when you're young.
No one believes you'll last, but that's okay,
failure is expected.
After all,
you're just a
lost teen
on the verge
of
adulthood.

And I love it.
I love the drugs, the drunken nights,
The memories I am making,
I love all the things I was told to hate.
And hate the things I should love.
I hate the people.
I hate talking.
I hate this anxiety that isn't even new,
not brought on by responsibility, or even
drama among my peers,
rather this drama
takes me back
to when I
was small
and hiding while
my parents fought.
The pain in my
stomach and
detached
robotic
self
assurance.

I've always been like this. Practical. Analytical.
I've never broken down, cried in front of people,
or yelled or showed aggression.
Instead I passed out from trying,
trying to be normal because
when mommy and daddy
are fighting you don't
show fear.
I didn't realize
until tonight
that at the
lowest I go
back to
childhood.

I don't look at myself much because I
don't want to draw attention or
upset others. I'm too concerned with
perception. It matters what others think.
Mother always said that.
But maybe passing out, maybe panic attacks
aren't a normal method of catharsis.
Maybe I should yell
or argue but that
mortifies me.
I can't be loud,
you don't want
them to hear
because
then mommy
will say
look
you've
upset
her.

I don't want anyone to fight because of  me.

I’m lost without you
You are my life
My soul

My meaning of being
Without you

I am a stray.

Yet you are still here.
I see you everyday
I tell you I love you every single day
I tell you the good morning
And of the new nights

And
And yet

I can never find the

Words to tell you how much you mean to me.

Watching you slowly fade away

Mortifies me.

Like shutting a finger in the door

The pain is there. Right where it happend

Your day will come.
And I will be there
The day before
The day after
And you’ll always

Always have a place in my heart.

There are two ways this could go
when the measure has been resolved
of whether nature moves to shock
or boredom is the end result

shame is assumed without proof
humiliation only found
with a result that mortifies
death by variety that fills a life

while reality says otherwise
tedium becomes the norm
apathy fills the void
when existence is switched about

the latter is the sad result
embarrassment put aside
in diversity the truth is known
comparisons become too trite.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190728.

Poets and writers don't cry
They keep bleeding on paper
But words in my throat sigh
Planning to choke me later

I want to utter billion thoughts
Crammed waiting for my speak
I bleed then erase heavy notes
Blood flood mortifies the weak

I wrestle to grasp my hand
Papers fill the room to brim
And I fill the room with sand
For those who can't swim

∴ Lyna Salman