you can hear the echo via Zizek the Slovak,
well, attire me in slavic myths and
i'll be mumbling purrs in mud too
for a helium bubble to become a comedian,
i know a jittery ******* addiction
when i see one...
if one thing the catholic schooling system
taught me was how to avoid
sniffing glue and how to recognise
a Freudian apostle - still, with all
the hippy **** you'd think
sniffing glue was what Ukrainian existentialism
prescribed with paracetamol,
catholic education just said: no no.
**** me it's the late 90s and we're talking
post-Chernobyl antics...
but that's how i see the left, leftist politics,
the right
               utilises prefixes and suffixes in the
old stance of simple pre- pro-
                                    anti-
                                            qua-      
                                                         -so so...
the left? oh they're right in there...
their prefixes are
                                Marxist-
liberal-
                                         Hegelian-
             whatnot...
                                                they don't
use abstract prefixes,
                                          their prefixes
are concrete,
                        they want the porridge in their mouth
to ensure a slur that never comes,
among a range of onomatopoeias they argue
from the perspective of the hushed and ushered crowd,
via one observation: Stalin clapped after a speech
to enjoin with the crowd, a real big brother,
****** never clapped, a sitting-duck method;
i'm not advocating, but by a proxy placebo dynamo
experimenting, it's called experimenting with
thought rather than practising with will,
former no chance of footstep evaluation for
cult status imitable -
                                      the left intellectual
has no rubric of thought concerning to and fro -
it has to be concrete layered and a shut off
perfect architecture without fault -
it can't be what it is -
                                      con-
has to be conservative
                                                  pro-
has to be socialist
                                     you once said legitimate
transparency - but you didn't say legislation -
well, the left understood it as legislation,
the right too wanted legitimate transparency -
the green party said we could have neither
but could have the replanting of a thousand
oak trees with a Robin Hood placard on the first
oak tree replanted in Sherwood Forest...
b. ~ d. ~... shot ~100 bent arrows into a bullseye -
hurrah! hurrah! maid marian lost her virginity
too! to a broomstick rather than maradona's
fingernail toothpick!
at an essex market the cockney shouts (out of
place): *** yer courgettes! *** yer courgettes!
             ta fa a pudding! ta fa a pudding!
             *** yer cucumbers! tooth firth 'un!

Somedays, I feel like I sinking.
I can fill it in my ribs, as each one breaks from the heaviness of my heart.
I feel the flowers I planted inside my soul, dying.
Each petal slowly falling, and cracking from the lack of nourishment.
Tears fill my eyes, and run down my face like a heavy creek stream.
I fear the power of my emotions.
I fear losing insight, for life is so beautiful.
Life is precious, easily ticked away by time.. yet, makes us feel like we've lived centuries with the wisdom we gain through our darkest corners.
Im holding onto my sanity; my strength.
I'm letting myself reep away, so that I can grow again.
My roots will flourish; my soul will be crisp.
Until then, I'm only a vessel, a floating soul, trying to find its way back home again.
Oh, the thoughts over coffee and ticking of my mothers clock.

To the woman who scolded me for moving on with my life after my assault at age 13:

"Your life didn't skip a beat, you went to school and hung out with friends and everything," is what she told me.

Yes my life did not skip a beat when I was entirely uprooted.
What happens to a plant if it is uprooted? Can a plant survive if it is pulled up out of the soil?
I have found that just as with any other situation involving injury, there as some steps you need to take in order to repair it.

First you need to assess the damage. Broken stems and wilting leaves are obviously very noticeable symptoms of distress. What is important is the condition of the main stem and the roots. This will determine whether or not the plant can survive. The sooner you can take emergency steps the better.

The next step is performing first aid. The plant benefits from little additional trauma as possible. Torn branches need to be cut back, to avoid any additional tearing. Keep in mind that any cutting done should be gentle and done with sanitized tools to prevent disease in the already weakened plant.

One of the final steps is replanting. The plant can now be replanted even deeper than it was before, and watering it regularly can reduce its stress.

Lastly, monitoring the plants success is important. The key to restoring a plant that was uprooted is patience while waiting for it to adjust through a period called transplant shock. Note that the situation may look worse before it looks better. Large leaves may wither or drop. Transplant shock can last several months or even seasons. Provide persistent care to the plant, and do not judge it until the next season of growth, usually during spring. It is usually worth the wait.

So, yes. I did not skip a beat.
I did not skip a beat after I was ***** and my life became uprooted because the sooner you can take emergency steps, the better. I learned how to replant myself instead of letting my life wither away. And do you know what? It was surprisingly worth the wait.

You found me
Heart of abuse turned peaceful
Eyes of disgust enlightened
You winged me into security,
then played off my vulnerability like a scavenger
Peeling my walls down like flesh from a carcass
You reeled me in like the catch of the day
hook attached, you left me dangling with the hope of repair
As you caught a one way to California
The days that followed brought your beasts with them
Gloomy deceitful minions of broken trust
Your "love" had evaporated just as quick as the oregon wind blows
Making me regret every ounce of compassion I'd given you
despising the sincerity I had offered
Regurgitating every lie you'd bestowed upon me
However, with every passing day my memory of you fades
No longer do I cry over your cowardly decisions
There is no hate or grudge held within my soul
Soon enough I realised I'd never loved you
I was faking contempt with every kiss, every hug, every word
& my heart secretly craved your absence
months have passed without heartache
I've doused my wounds in gasoline and set your memory ablaze
regained that fire in my eyes that you once so carelessly saturated with tears
There are many that patiently waited for my return
Finally my golden emeralds are cleaned of deceit and deception
I'm done searching, waiting, and hoping for my happily ever after
I am my happy ending
I'm the best architect and gardener I know
Continuously rebuilding myself after demolition
& Replanting my roots to fit my desires
Repairing cracks, sowing holes, stemming leaves from ashes
I've been reborn.

Replanting a Cactus can be tricky

where children cannot see the problem

Prickles in nature come in all shapes and sizes

and we lose the moral battle, often

Deep into the rainforest, a struggle to survive

From insects to leaved trees, wanting all to thrive

The habitat of animals, species all around

Living things a-plenty, crawling on the ground



The four main layers play a different role

The bio-diversity forms part of the whole

The dark forest floor and the understory

Shorter plants existing, many bugs to see



The vibrant middle layer, yet forms the canopy

Climbing the emergent, just like a monkey

The strong plant materials, helps to build a home

For people of the Amazon, food that has been grown



Tropical regions, Equator ever near

A moderate climate, giant trees are here

Forests on a mountain, misty all around

Coated in a moss, such an eerie surround



North and South America and Oceania

Asia and Europe, as well as Africa

There’s a cycle of life, yet deforestation

Affects the homes of animals for plantation



Removing ecosystems, can cause erosion

Droughts as well as flooding, less cohesion

The modern ways of man affects vegetation

Contributing to a silent devastation



Replanting, recycling, assisting with crops

Steps of preservation quench like raindrops

The precious seeds and life, of which can be found

Yet, it’s not too late to turn this world around



Written by Geraldine Taylor ©

I put my roots in warmth
and what is comfortable
sending them down
thick and deep into the soil
only to be stopped
by the desires of others
uprooting and replanting me
over and over
while my leaves wither
curling in on themselves
for dislike of
change.

Awkward girl
Tries to keep up
Awkward world
Says never enough
Says create new oceans
With tears too heavy to *****
Says create new paths
With roads of vision, take rough patches of torn decisions,
keep tending, keep mending
Keep filling these cracks
Nourish these conditions
Maintain stable mind, steady heart
Says there is growth in replanting
New pots for greater expansion
Says transfers are still modes of transportation
Just minor shifts to new locations
Says just keep moving
Says awkward girl will never be enough in awkward world
So create a world of your own

The coast shakes
quakes
falls to crumbles.
People cry
over those who die,
souls stolen
in the wake of earth's destruction.

Alas
love pulls us together,
replanting roots unbroken;
we begin this life anew.

But.

Lucky are the soulless
who've left this world unseen
as it's my single skeleton
that lingers under me
(I was your last act)
(a tragedy scene).

In the wake of your destruction
I'm ***** and unclean,
And because of this,
I shall know no other end,
than to hopelessly exist ---
as there's
no reconstruction.
no humanity.

It's most likely just my ****** disposition
Picking flowers just to watch them wilt
Maybe I've just been wilting
Losing petals and color and life
I can't keep ahold of anything
Possibly just tearing out my own roots so no one else could do it for me
Tired of replanting myself and tired of trying to become acquainted to new soil
Adaptation is ******* and I don't want to play with change anymore but it's so ******* unfortunate how you usually have no choice or say in the matter, it's always so forced
Forced to change or sit in the ruines
And sometimes, I do
Sometimes I stay there until I can't breathe in anymore ash
Ether streaming to my lungs making its home there
Sometimes I stay there long after everyone has left and I sit in it as long as I can
Sometimes I leave before it can happen
Sometimes it never does
I tell myself it would have if I'd have stayed
It would have changed
Maybe it's just my ****** disposition
Telling me that no matter what changes I make
None of them will ever constitute as enough that your heart could ever feel the same as mine
Now it's pounding in my temples telling me that I'm wasting my time
Not enough, unloveable
Not enough for anyone, but you aren't just anyone
You're so much more and I have so much less than most
And then comes the rejection of the thought, the tantrum, the dissociation, the I don't need love, the I'd rather be alone my entire life than deal with the pain of loving someone like there was a knife pressed against me and having them shove it in
I don't need love
But no matter how long that last
I always want yours

you think
you can cut me off
for endless weeks
then spring up
and come back to me
whenever you please
like cutting down a tree
and all of its roots
then suddenly
replanting seeds
for a tree that won't
grow back to you

z.f.

Have you ever been lost?
Lost to the point where you didn't know which way to look.
Which direction to point your feet? And every street looked the same?
Have you ever lost yourself  in a transcendental feeling where you felt that up was down,
And down was up?
A constant wonderment where you couldn't wait for the next moment to come?
A split second that turns into addiction- a moment that feels like your first kiss?
The moment your mouth waters almost out of control,
Wandering about in your garden of thoughts. Replanting every seed. Harvesting the fruit fresh grown by the sun.
Have you ever lost control of your breath?
Hyperventilating into a circumstance where time itself has gotten away
And you weren't at all bothered?
To relive all of the feelings that feel like only yesterday.
Mere seeds that are scattered into the very garden that has become root of where you truly felt your happiest.
A moment where you left your bookmark at home and revised a whole chapter of your favorite book with the biggest smile?
If at all you've ever been this lost, you deserve to be locked inside an insane asylum.
Because most people need a passport to visit the things that truly make them happy

Your eyes meet mine
They say mine
Like an anchor burying into my cornea
A window to your heart
You’re mine; I’m yours
But
Mine means
Rewriting
Undoing
Replacing
Replanting
****, I wish the eyes could talk

A war broke out inside my head
an enraged battle fought at my birth.
A battle won but ever lost or so the legend goes.
Decades have passed since the first ever scream,
but the ashes of children still tickle our noses.
Maidens still shudder at sight of red leaking from butchered goats
Remnants of soldiers still hide behind darkened caves.
Sometimes a bone or two is found; mostly mere teeth.
They’re placed in dirt without any tears or mourns
for no one knows and those who do are far gone.

A war broke out inside my head.
They say people fought people with people as weapons.
The battle was won and ever lost
for no one was dead who had not killed
and no one lived who had not died a little
Our fathers fought our lovers’ fathers or so the legend goes.
Farmers still freak out over shooting stars
they’ve witnessed many that didn’t stop in the sky.
Veterans still get caught staring at voids.
Graveyards are full, insects are full,
bodies lay impatient to be gnawed away.
Rivers are full, fish are full, no one dares find out with what.

A war broke out inside my head.
They tried burying the bloodstained spears
but every flower seems made of flesh, every leaf a forgotten scream
No hands were shook, no promises signed;
the battle ended when the fighters did or so the legend goes.
Kids begin sobbing at quietest of sounds,
folks have forgotten all lullabies
Nights are awoken by shrieks of asleep,
cannons still snarl in cloudy dreams.
Halls still reek with smell of hunger.

A war broke out inside my head
and though emotions have long made up with thoughts,
memories still sway free with sewed up faces and missing limbs.
People stopped speaking of days long gone
but the air still echoes with tales unheard
Skulls of friends were stollen of brains,
limbs of children were cooked on coals, or so the legend goes.
Buildings shoved to the ground, graves robbed of beings
The battle was won and ever lost.

A war broke out inside my head
and though the sky still shudders with the silence of ground
We’re trying. Trying to make sense of the winds
Trying not to connect tides with sunken ships,
overflowing with sons and daughters and wives.
A battle took places some ages ago,
and though we still confuse chopped lambs with—
We’re trying. Brick by brick, we cement this rubble back to shops
Seed by seed we’re replanting our orchards.

A war broke out inside my head
And though old men still tremble at unusual of times,
Children still struggle to tie their shoes,
women still run fast through empty streets
and fathers still weep behind the doors, we’re trying.
Ash by ash, we’re sweeping away the left out war.
The battle sailed off and though the war goes on
We’ll die bringing this kingdom back to life.
We're fallen men among cindered thrones, but
feather by feather we'll rebuild our wings.
Flutter by flutter we'll reach the sky

So, please hold on.
There's so much left.

Current movements
move men
to acts of destruction.

When acting on passions,
we ask people in passing
if this wit with which
we communicate
is enough to elaborate
our currently confused state.

The saturation of the markets
marks this as some capitalistic *******.

Mixed messages of messed up maxims
and the memes of mad men, fallen children,
and land barons,
of the lost bounties
once saved for sharing
the hearts made for caring,

but we will rebuild good will
in these soiled fields
by replanting the seeds of those
who rode the roads
from which we came,
who plucked the rose
from which the thorns grew;
Then bleeding passed along
the wisdom that they knew
could help us be better.

Replanting my soul into a bitter bowl of charcoal
Poking holes in muddy soles to let stagnant water run
Up to our knees, up to our necks, screaming steel tomb
Algae will one day bloom on my bleached bones