Once upon a time
and once only
there lived an unsightly man

and though he was very kind and hard-working
no woman got
more than one step closer to him

after a while
seeing he cannot find his soulmate
the man left the village and built himself a cabin
in the woods

all day long
he chopped wood
picked fruit and herbs
occupied himself with carpentry and animal husbandry
and grafted all sorts of trees in spring

from time to time
the villagers came to see him
asking for advice on how to heal their wounds
ordering a door
or a bed
and less often
a coffin

but the man in the woods
though more and more sought-after
was
more and more miserable
as time went by

one day
unable to possess his soul anymore
wove a rope
and went to the oldest oak
to hang himself
but the oak
who had seen so much in its life
but never a man so wretched
broke the branch he was hanging on
then covered him with leaves
so that no one could find him
right next to its trunk

but
underneath the leaves
our man fell asleep at once
and woke up before God
and he said to Him
Lord
You know that ever since I was a child
I have been careful not to tread on ants
or any kind of crawlers
I have not stolen
I have not lied
I have worked all my life
for all that I earned
inspite of these
I am really miserable
that no woman wants me

and the Lord said
I know you very well
there is hardly anyone as kind as you out there
but as much as I love you
I cannot create a woman so unbeautiful
to love you
but
you can

look
from the dried oak branches
you can shape a woman's body
fill it with clay and wrap it in leaves
and I will take care of the rest

so, after he woke up
our hero
worked on his clay creature for three whole days
but fearing she would reject him
he made her even more unattractive than he was

on the third day
he called God
and asked Him to give her life
and the Lord
as promised
blew the breath of life into the woman

seeing this wonder
the man was grateful to the Lord
then woke her up gently
with a kiss on the forehead
she then opened her eyes and asked him:
who are you
and why are you
so hideous that you are scaring me

to which he cried and said
forgive me
I am your servant
The Lord made me like this
to protect you from wild beasts
but I am hard-working and wise
to care for you how I know best

but she closed her eyes
and then he understood
to only care for her
in secret

and as he loved her more and more
her ugliness began to fade
becoming more beautiful with every passing day

soon
a young villager came to ask for remedies for his mother
and not little was his surprise
when he saw the most beautiful woman
he had ever seen
and she saw him, too
and understood what love is
oh, how she whined that night

seeing all this
the man who dreamt too much
told her the following day
look
I know it is time to go our separate ways
I cared for you as well as I could
and I hope you are not dissatisfied with anything
go with that handsome young man
and should you need anything
look for me
if you can bear to look me in the eye
and so she did

years later
while keeping himself busy with a bee garden
the man in the woods felt her presence behind him
but, afraid not to scare her,
he did not turn around
and she cried out:
I eventually learned the whole story
so I came to ask for your forgiveness
and look into your eyes
and the man
who had stopped dreaming for a long time
turned around and was astonished
to see before him
the most unsightly woman in the world
but he did not mind
so, he cared for her
just like that first day
and she regained her beauty and happiness
and perhaps
the man in the woods would have never learnt
why his woman caressed him with so much joy
if one day he did not look in the water of a spring
and see
the most handsome man
there has ever been
out there

The music drifts my mind away
Each beat shuddering through my whole presence
Making my heart thump and my blood frantically flow through my veins

The city lights hide the dark shadows of the night
Bringing warmth and safety to the room
Like a big blanket that protects you from the things scaring you

People huddle in groups, all enjoying the ebullience in the air
Smiles and laughter could be heard from miles away
Not a trace of unhappiness on this beautiful night

I look around me, my eyes shining as bright as the stars
Smiling at the sight surrounding me
My stomach fills with butterflies and goosebumps trail my arms and legs
And a warm feeling ignites within me
This is a night, a moment I’ll never forget.

I wanted to write a poem
about the incessant discomfort
I always feel in my left eye
whenever my contact lenses
become old and dry
I thought about how it tickles
but scratches at the same time
and starts off alright
just a minor annoyance
but quickly, overtime
becomes almost unbearable
like my pre-school bully himself
is folding down one of my eyelashes
just enough for it to poke me
at the slightest movement
then I thought about how
I'd sooner write a poem about my life
and how it started out equally alright
and quickly, overtime became almost unbearable
as if my pre-school bully didn't do it right

so I found him in his adult life many years later
wife, two kids and a mortgage
yappy staffy-cross, two cars
and an alright job as a graphic designer
his garden full of gorgeous flowerbeds,
a full head of hair and a fading right hook
"MAKE ME FEEL **** LIKE YOU DID THEN."
a puzzled look on his face,
garden hose flooding his drive and the yappy
staffy-cross still yapping away
at the living room window
"I'M DEAD SERIOUS ANDREW,
NOTHING HURTS LIKE IT USED TO."
so he called the police
and I never got to feel young again
unless you count scurrying away from
a council estate under the threat of
a poor meal at Parkside police station
the rekindling of my youth

so this is my infomercial poem
about how not to confront someone
always be fully clothed
that's very important
avoid being drunk
any mind altering substance
is best avoided in my opinion
remember just because you care
just because you remember
does not mean anyone else does
oh and
don't eyeball craft beer when
you still have your contacts in
you know what?
-just don't eyeball craft beer

What’s in a name?
It is what turns heads
It can cause a quiver in your body
Or a smile to curl onto your lips.
A name can be tarnished
Or reborn.
It can make you stand out from the crowd
Or join the masses.
It is more than what society deems
A socially acceptable form of
Introduction.

So let me introduce myself:
I used to feel my name in harsh syllables
Rooted in the language of my people’s history.
MAR or MIR meant bitter.
Like having the wrong taste in your mouth
Reminding me of MARor –
Eaten on Passover to remember how burdensome,
Difficult and bitter the Jews’ slavery in Egypt was.
IAM (YAM) – ocean.
Tumultuous, never still.
Always swirling and scaring children out of it.
MIRIAM – my Hebrew name.
Bitter sea.
I grew into that name resentfully.
I reacted when I was called that by fellow classmates,
For what else could I do?

But time went by
And I began collecting seashells by the seashore.
The ocean became a treasure and my name
Had a new ring to it.
Yet when eighth grade graduation came around I was given the option
Of writing Mariya instead of Miriam.
I was going to high school where I didn’t know anyone.
So no one needed to know my bitter past.
I also learned that a name was not made up of syllables
But of sweet sounds.
Mmm – like the taste of something so delicious your eyes close
And you feel yourself melting.
Aaa – you’ve just finished your meal and on this hot summer day
You find solace in the cool water running down your back in the shower.
Rrr – racing, running, reaching for the sky.
That’s the sound I want my plane to make when I can hold a piece of
Cloud in the palm of my hand and feel its silver lining.
Iii – the sound of “and” in many languages. The sound of something more,
Reminding me that this is not the end.
Ya – the sound of agreement and conclusion. As if that is all I have to say…so yeah.

Because I love you and have on many levels for years on end
Because you make me smile and give me more butterflies in my stomach than anyone ever has
Because you listen to me when I'm down and feed into my humor and turn the bad situation into the best situation
Because you make me so happy and I can't tell you...
Because I can't tell you how I feel without jeopardizing the best friendship I have
Because for three years I've consistently felt something for you that I didn't even realize until I discovered it myself
Because I can't show you these words without scaring you away
Because we both felt for each other at different times and we never landed in the middle
Because you never made a move when you felt the same
Because I can't lose you without going insane
Because you are the best thing that's happened to me, and my best friend, but I can't tell you...
Because I can't tell you how I feel without scaring you away.

England played today, what a ****-up grandiose style, glass bottle like hail flew down on Marseilles, water-canons, all kinds of crowd dispersers, true grit on the former great, now belittled, nation-state in d' hood reduced to a pitch with 20 idiots running around kicking about Charles' 1st head, and too fidgety skeletons tagged to A.S.B.O.S. tags playing puppets in a rectangle... i stopped watching the match for a cigarette break, the free-kick went in, Saturay, Tesco closing at 10pm, i took to wearing an Australian Open t-shirt, i've never seen so many funerals drinking a beer on my way home - prior it it was all gorilla chanting and Tarzan... i only learned of Tsar Putin dipping his ***** in the **** of Crimea a few minutes later.

your typical Saturday night, next door  neighbour's
trying out an alt. Y.M.C.A. with disco funk,
i guess it spreads easily this day, feel the grooves
or lined Rodin - ape-**** up my *** -
music so loud coming from my neighbour's canopy
i should be asking for canapés - after all Euro 2016
kicked off, scarf-hooligans of Moscow made
Marseilles home-turf , two Brits at the draw
in hospital, faces kicked-in, real bulldogs,
asthmatics at the end of it - conversation turned into a tour
of the Cairngorms or the western outlets...
a lot of Scottish impromptu with **** **** freckles!
gee ginger! aye fucky ***** ****!
Anglo users love interchanging the vowels for emphasis
to differentiate geographic regions -
but this one book review got me -
entitled ***** state by a feminist -
the ugly child abusing father is a punter -
listen, if it were't for prostitutes i'd be a priest
7 years in, acne on my Richie, one ****** in,
kiss on the mouth several times, hell, the guilt trip,
poor boy poor girl, skin cream lubrication,
talk of doctor's appointments, ******* a *****,
i'd get the Scandinavia model if the girls weren't fickle,
the hand is hardly a plastic surgeon of the female
genitalia ***** - bony M... you must be talking
about ******* - ***** M...
Jesus no more the son of god than the patron saint
of prostitutes... the poor guy feels the aches of touch
while the rich boys sushi off a stripper in Billions...
i don't have strong dialectical encouraging to dispute
or discuss - i too am too blame, ask my dermatologist...
so my neighbours threw a party,
on the set-list?
Cheryl Lynn - Got to Be Real; Oliver Cheatham,
Get Down Saturday Night; Edwin Starr - Contact;
and then the one off from One Direction - History -
the DJ suddenly experiences the jitters neurotically
changing songs before they finish - midwestern horror,
Ohio or Iowa hammer masscare, excerpt from
Pink Floyd's anti-fascist anti-educationalist march,
dangly on the Cenotaph -
persona qui umbra-grata (person agreeably welcome
as a shadow) - yep, me and the ex_machina routine...
i know the feminist argument smocking pipe handy
clean for more pages, but ever hear a ******* ******
or laugh with you? if i didn't use up the profession
i'd be the buying type abusive father forever,
who the **** needs **** trips when the moment can please
twos? i'd be up against a Cosmopolitan Magazine Quizzes...
the "perfect boyfriend" types, later coverage in
psychological advice columns... but wait...
all that ******* advice about something being indestructible
in us, about us, beginning with this keen appeal to
atheism already defaults a logic behind the essential
characteristic of the existence pertaining to a psyche -
by destroying god we also resolved to more easily disqualify
the in-destructibility of the soul,
constrained, a study of noumenons, with logic application,
as if with the omni- prefix to the non-essentials of god -
logic destroyed the compatible qualification of soul
ownership, reduced, it gave us the advent of prayer
and the necessity of a god, rather than our selves,
via souls - something without deductive parameters to
cursor and pre- of the experience quickened to
argument with dis- and later -qualificatio;
the кaцaпс fought with Mongols... you think there's
a fair bet for your hooliganism in Marseilles?
well... it all boils down to two identifiers of nationalism:
parade with the royal family near St. James' park
or gut a pig in the south of France...
Wales will not bow this time, given that they're
not getting paid for their national pride dribble,
they'll ******* up... make more adverts with your superstars...
strange that, well, America has idiosyncratic sports,
i never understood the cheese-ball of oval either to the throw -
yes, baseballs makes more sense than cricket,
but you have to understand rugby before you
start crowdsurfing your *** in nappies -
the high expression of nationalism is so Joker-faced
with the Windsor ******, nationalism and a king never match
up to how Mao or ****** would have it...
and the alternative is football hooliganism...
i walked for my whiskey and beer just after the 75th minute,
along the way i met so many funerals, donning my
Australian Open T-Shirt... well, you, know,
a different type of spectator sport - i heard the rabbis
of the oval where deemed cricket tourists when kicking
a penalty through the H architecture -
cricketers are tourists, oval jerker-offs are Wallabies...
Australia in the Eurovision song-contest... oh yeah,
i'm mad... mad about Abba.. Matt in Memphis,
an Eve Cassidy moment, Sia's chandelier cover-up,
the truest form of plagiarism - the cover is better
without all the computing morphings...
oh sure, i could play the dating game...
9 years in and i had two authentic ***** in my day...
one was a black single mum who took me back
to her flat in Stratford, dragged her baby girl from the bed
to the floor, and her baby son, didn't want me to
penetrate her, tucked my **** in between her thighs,
i stopped, was woken by her son in the middle of the night,
took him and laid him on my chest and we fell asleep...
so yeah, prostitution is ALL BAD... coming from a theorist
who hasn't experienced the drudgery of lives "unexpected"
via eventualities akin to Chernobyl... given that the most
paranoid nation scared and scaring others concerning
a nuclear holocaust is the only one to set two off... two!
Pearl Harbour was an army attack on an army base...
what the Americans did was just a very quick Holocaust.

I can remember my 9 year old hands scrapping macabre words on top those tortured blue lines that pitied my gated head.  
I can remember my down the street friends, lips turned purple, from the snow temperature, glistening watered creek in my yard.
I can remember the quivering muscles in my stomach begging me not upchuck a landslide of overflowing butterflies on that summer night when he took my hand.
I can remember shutting out the lights on that one night while the cross hanging on my wall starred me down to fall to my knees and pray for the rotten wood in my heart to be repaired.
I can remember turning over away from that cross and find comfort in the damp pillow trailing a broken path to my withered eyes.
I can remember the thrown away unopened lunches falling free from my fingertips and throat.
I can remember my stomach hating me and my mind thinking in happy confetti-like gestures with a piñata full of echo’s, because candy insides are the devil.
I can remember abandoned dinners when spiders that took my place to cobweb my chair, and my food in the trashcan.
I can remember remnants of silver, sharp-toothed squares being injected on my skin and used as crayons.
I can remember the tree’s with broken arms smiling at me as I sat under the black leaves sharing their loneliness with me and I never did mind.
I can remember my lullaby had the same frequency as the jumpy breathes fluttering from my sunken lips harmonizing with the drops of my tears and blood.
I can remember the creature starring back at me in my bedroom and we had matching scars.
I can remember I hated her.
I can remember she hated me.
I can remember the young, immature boys with sharpened tongues quick with words that constricted the evil accumulating my skeleton as if I did not already know what needed to disappear.
I can remember my lips faking exposure of my tarnished, ***** teeth with the corners of my mouth turned up and the reflection of my cross blurred in the two windows on my body.
I can remember his voice on the other end of the phone line as he confessed his love at the same time while he was the tracing paper on my skin and I was that paper’s captain with a sharp, shiny penknife.
I can remember skipping the blue skies outside my chambered bed failing to search for the keys, but I was the guard and they were hanging on my cross.
I can remember falling to my bathroom floor, cold and sweaty begging for forgiveness as I gave my body and soul away to the undertaker when I checked off sin number “too many”.
I can remember God’s smile at me from the heavens and my heart being split open but not the bad kind of split, the kind that burst in the presence of grace.
I can remember the growling of my stomach scaring me away into night terrors, every night but they soon became my home.
I can remember sitting on the floor as my older sister, with her packed bags, walking out my house into her adult world and I was not at her car door waving goodbye.
I can remember my older brother leaving for college and I ignored the door shut.
I can remember my selfishness floating in the hands of Satan for he is the record sin keeper.
I can remember church pews darkening as I sat up from them because my sins squeezed inside and left scars, but that golden, stained glass alter at the front kept them in line all nice and tidy, and I would smile back.
I can remember that beige bread chiseled heavenly by the hands of God resting in the little golden doors behind God’s chair sprinting down my throat and planted seeds of glory in my withered and dry garden.
I can remember the holy water raining in my stomach praying for minerals of bits of food.
I can remember the blood in my veins fighting the layers of my skin rebuilding crooked patches that did match my normal skin color because I was the chemical warfare throwing rusted razors and bow and arrows penetrating the fortress just above my veins.  
I can remember needles and stitching living in the doctor’s drawer untouched by my skin even though my name has been reserved on them 47 times.
I can remember breathing.
I can remember praying.
I can remember living.
I can remember remembering this when I am 100 years old.

He sings a song
To me
Alone
For ones love for another
Should be known

But words so carefully
Written and sung
Can never be interpreted correctly
By one

What do they all mean?
What is he trying to say?
Or are the words he sings all part of a game...

The motive he has I do not know.
But tomorrow again I will go
And talk with my sweet finch
Trying to unravel his feelings.
Without scaring him away.

I know you're hurting, sweetie, and it's breaking my heart. I keep seeing all these horrible things in my sleep and it's scaring me.
I want to tell you so much, but I'm afraid I'll hurt you again - and I cannot do that.

I wanted to **** myself, and I don't know how I'll tell anyone that, let alone my best friend. I prayed for the end; I knew how I was going to do it: and then an angel showed up.

There are moments when it feels like it's better, but sometimes, they hurt the most, because they are so fleeting.
I don't know if it'll ever get better, darling, but sleep tight, you hear?
Sleep...

Don't you go worrying about me, I'll be fine. It's probably just a phase. I'll be fine in a few weeks, or a month, or a year.
Chin up, darling, you're doing great.

Sharp tongues do damage quicker than blade could manage.
Deeply scaring the mind, which in turn takes time.
Step light little princess,
Heading advice and walking with care
So as to not attract unwanted stares,
Speak when spoken to
and give pause
to process a slogan.
Think aloud only if you are alone,
inking pride deep inside.
Pretty papers leave trails that can be followed,
leaving you to weave lies that can’t be swallowed.

I'm sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, I should leave, I'm not good, why do you like me, she'd parrot again and again, coming and going and coming and going and I will love this love forever and I don't want to lose you and soul mates and we're going to be okay and we're safe to each other and sorry, sorry, sorry and you should abandon me and coming and going and stop calling yourself honest, and are you sure you have bpd, and coming and going and one day there are no more sorrys and coming and going and I can't take this and coming and eventually

going.

"Here are some snippets and poetry I wrote" my ex says in an email some days after I've drunkenly reinitiated contact with them after a year of nothing and the "snippets" go back and back and back, 2015, 2014, 2013, and we both confess to having read each other's blog and they will end up refollowing me on every blog they have which is all well and good but I am still scared and wondering why I seem to always go where I don't belong, why I am always trying to open some Pandora's box and they have said they never get over anyone, they have called me their muse and I want to tell them that I am not their muse, I am only myself, my best friend tells me to be distant with them after I tell her about the drama with them that I managed to handle and I had started writing a poem to them but now I think I'll just close the unsaved document, I only sent them one poem but I don't want to send any more, it would only encourage them, maybe encourage me and that's all I ever do - encourage people who end up scaring and hurting me, but hey at least I get content from all of it.

"I miss you" ze tells me, ze sends me hearts and initiates contact and likes every stupid thing I ever post on Facebook, and when we're around each other everything is fine, and my best friend tells me ze would date me if I let hir but I can't do it, I can't casually date, not a white person and not now, not after all I've dealt with, I think I just want to be alone forever now, and ze is so nice to me but I just can't reciprocate when we are not in the same room, and I don't believe hir is really autistic or bpd and I never know why, and ze is the best of all of hir anarqueer friends but there is something so off about all of them and they are good entertainment from afar but these are the kinds of people I would have been so jealous of when I was still at smith and always hurting from my perpetual anonymity among the hipsters I realized I would never be a part of, and I have accepted that I will always be invisible among white hipsterqueers but sometimes it still hurts, "community" is ******* and I don't believe it could ever exist for me, but that doesn't mean that I don't sometimes want it desperately.

"Let's go to Tuesgays," my best friend announced last night, and I roused myself up because I knew she wanted to go and wouldn't go without me, she told me as much when we were walking in the dark trying to find the club, and I gathered up all the bits of naivety and hope and the maybe it will be okay amidst all the fear and fatigue and I assembled the bits into a shoddy structure that blew away an hour later and I'm sure I ruined the night but she didn't tell me, and she bought me pizza but the pizza was too much and I don't want to perform at an open mic and I don't want to spend money and I don't want to drink but I do anyway and I don't know why I do all these things I don't like doing, building all these unstable structures that just fall down in the end, and I don't know what's wrong, it's not her fault, I just wish I were dead.

"So fill me in on these last five years. How's life?" I didn't respond to the old high school friend who I wasn't even particularly close with them and once I thought it would be cool to reconnect with friends in high school but every time they ever try to contact me now all I think is "go away, go away, go away," and it's more intense with men, he texts me this morning, days after I delete the text, says, "You were the first person that ever wrote on my wall on facebook, remember? I never forgot that," as if that's supposed to make me feel something, what I want to say is "hi I'm gay and crazy and not the person who wrote on your wall in 2007 and I don't know what the point is in contacting me," but I will hold my tongue because I can't say these things, I will continue to not reply, just like I don't reply to the old men I meet who send me emails or add me on Facebook because maybe I am their only friend and it's not their fault, it's mine for talking, mine for trusting, for giving away my email and poetry so willingly, always forgetting that slightly sick feeling I get afterwords, that's what being uncomfortable is, that feeling that something is wrong, wrong, wrong, and you're stuck and it's too late to go back but something is wrong and you can't put your finger on what is wrong, what is wrong, what is wrong with you, why can't you be nicer to the people around you, why are you writing this at all, stop feeling this anxious, stop feeling bad for no reason, stop feeling

uncomfortable.

Dear Me a Year Ago, 
If I did my math correctly you just started high school, and I'm going to tell you right up front it's going to be hell. But you are going to meet some of your closest friends this year, you are going to learn a lot, and you are going to change. You are going to have some of the best and worst moments of your life this year. But if I had to give you some advice, it would be this---

Laugh. Smile. Cry. Make mistakes. Then make more. But never make the same mistake twice. Step out of your comfort zone. If someone compliments you just say thank you. If someone waves to you wave back, this person may end up as your friend. Don't bottle things up. If you are scaring yourself go stay with a friend, don't be alone. Light **** on fire, trust me, it helps. When you find out your aunt has cancer don’t fear the worst. Don't take yourself, or others too seriously. Beware of *******. Don't live in the past, but don't live in the future either. If someone invites to do something, go. Don't hold on to those who've hurt you. Don't let anxiety rule your life. Know that there is still hope. If you need someone to talk to, message them, call them, anything, they will listen and it will help. Have emotional breakdowns. Then have more. Be yourself. Wear band shirts everyday if that makes you happy. Know that it's okay to be weak, and it's okay to be strong too. Know that there are people who care. Breathe. Remember the way it feels to be happy, because that will pull you through the worst days of your life. Keep playing guitar, you will start to **** less eventually. Listen you your music too loud. Remember relapse happens, and that's okay. Write ****** poetry, because that seems to help too. Break into abandoned places, just to see what’s inside.  Drink copious amounts of coffee. Make stupid decisions.

But most importantly stay alive. I know this sounds cliche, butI promise things can get better, and I am still trying to get heal, and it's hard, and there are still days when I don't want to do this any longer, but it's getting easier to get out of bed in the morning. So keep fighting  this, and never give in.  

Sincerely, 
A better you

Faces only remind you of
How lonely you are,
You say you've swam too far
Into the sea of your regrets
That I am your lifeboat
But didn't you hear
I sank long, long ago?

You've been searching
For a new home,
One that doesn't creak
Or shudder at night.
But homes are not people
And your voice cracks
As you point out
There's a welcome mat
By the front door
But I never answer
When you knock.

It's been a while since
I started attracting
Strangers with flashlights
To search me like
A haunted place.
I finally realized they
Were the ones that
Needed scaring away.

It's so odd to think,
You once told me
You saw beauty
In clifftops,
And I thought you
Were talking about
The view.

She hung simple things from the bare apple tree, things like mirrors, ribbons, bells and bird feeders, things to attract the robins and the finches. But then the crows came scaring the robins and finches away, this annoyed her, this drove her to the verge of insanity.

She had an idea though , a terrible one, but an idea. She decided to hang strips of bacon from the tree , bacon laced with poisons, all sorts of poisons , poisons for rats , for weeds , even the type fit for human consumption. Poisons to make them sick, poisons to make the ******* fall from the tree.But crows are much, more intelligent than the average human ,the crows watched the fat lady, observing her murderous ways.  

But only the finches and the robins fed from the flesh that dangled from the naked apple tree , only the finches and robins fell to the ground, only the finches and the robins died a horrible dragged out death.This pushed her over the edge , now she just sits and squawks to her self day in and day out, hiding from the flock of crows.

Blitzin and sittin. I'm fixin on doin it in.
I
grin. I sin. I'm ****** spinnin track verses
Round house Shreq four
Poe lease store.
a ***** was like " yo.. do me".   And I'm like "uhhh..
No"

****** friends like you do
second best like you do
with your chest
brand new. Sticky bamboo.
Biggie bad panda. Panthers
up in the trees. Sticken up for the breeze
It’s a reason to be.

Bees. Bark on the trees. Back on your knees.
Back up the beat. pack up the treats.Sack up
and Beg me please
Ashamed, I'm
aimlessly aiming. Amazing. I'm feeling. A bit condescending
You like what you see?  well you might be a freak, and you
might want to seek out
a new conversation.
leads to persuasion.
Invasion of ants.
Dance Lance Vance
Rant can't pant like a dog...

No.
I break up into pieces. Piece it together
and whether or not
you spot the spot.
admit you're not a lot
yeah
your not that spacey boy astronaut.  
an anomaly
anonymously
leaking elixir
fixity fixer. Mr. mix **** salad  tell me What did you say?
That’s what I thought

mad women
a map of the bad criminals
zappin  a fat cinnamon
glass of that old pinnacle
****

a bit bare
with the wrath of a bear scaring
a dastardly dog carrying
amethyst
conglomerated

rated R, bar none
acupuncturing
gun smoke
a melatonin, ****, and a biscuit a piece

PC piper
cold cuts off a limb with a knife
fat cashing master bait
tackle, and jelly to bite

preserving space jam
hat with a jacket to match
tacked up photos of Bruce Lee
and Bruce Wayne

Wayne manor
I'd rather explain
rather be happy to pay
Dad for a crappier day.
I'm fixed soaking tooth aches
in bisquick and **** top
dollar for your  ****-talking hash tags
salad tossing apparatus

armature on a radical man grinning
as actual as furniture
wrappin a broke limb
in factory. smoke fillin in
***** and dope denim men

necessary feminist hair

I’m not  prepared for a cob salad
sort of like a bad
hairdo. A new
piece
to the paper blue noise
in a focal view

high-rise
cellophane shoes
****** do don't

don't be a ****** man
scaring kids
serenading scarecrows

sacrifice satin like
ice
nice
maybe I can make a mean price
bright
I can be content
I can be a sunny side egg
dent on an awful guys Bentley
friendly

I can shoot ****
with the bad boys
sad boys
corduroy jeans  
and an opal headed ring
See?
I can make tea and teeth
and *** in my moms bed
dead to the world
I'm a girl
no I'm not
I’m
looking for
***** up at the scene of the crime
Ive got
sixteen dollars and a pile of dimes

up in my head
ache up in my
head like a weathered old *****
I've got
super college knowledge
I apologize

Mixed up. looking for causes
cause it saws
it claws it paws at my
internal thoughts
and it aught to be critical
Literal lists of fits and fists
cynical. physically
ready to be open
I'm hoping
I can be
anything
but everything that I see
is everything but anything

I'm rendering a catchphrase
two one two
your boys are blue
scratch that
toys and attitudes

a Malibu Ken doll
bent on Adderall
and anyhow
I meant to vent
I'm not spent
I'm just saying

a mystical collaboration
in a nation of amazing amateurs
enamel on the alley chairs

open
flies up
ties for guys
and I'm
coping
exchange these
lies for lies in this
city-like town-like space
like wow like
How the heck are ya  mon? It's football now
no  it's

Nerf
or  nothin
It's a bagel shaped muffin
It's a ladle worth touchin if you think its worth ****** with

thick
like an out of body
hand to god
I manned up
on a melancholy
ample sod

I manned up

A knock at your door
is it not
what your looking for?
looking for
skeleton skin cells

innocence
settin up
basement call down
I'm all out of instinct
pigs stink
sippin up
drinks and

trippin on
life and words
and birds fly
in the most high
mostly

I could think
things like
open toad shoes
and open frogs too
and I'm cookin up stew
Like a mad man
****

He was the child with the magnifying glass that lingered
in the exhalation of the heavens. Always holding it on
those of weaker statue than himself. Insects were his
starting point, as they were barbecued under the influence
of what was focused between light and glass and what
lived became inanimate just a blackened smear that he
smothered words into the dirt
        
                           I'LL BURN THE WORLD,

His parents saw this and in jest laughed it off as the
Immaturity of a child's frustration. That all was but a
a boy finding his place within the many echoes of manhood.
A child was maturing, and they assumed that he was not
ready for the collision of what was in-between the moments
of childhood and adulthood.

One cold and sodden night where the only things that were dry.
Were submerged in the cover of roofs and foliage.
But even the penetrating raindrops gathered in haste to soak
the earth beneath the leaves protection. All drowned within
nights flourish of immersed air. Where it felt that breath was only
in-between the flurry of h20's deluge.

Within the house, within the rooms crept a silence.
            It wasn't alone, for it wept unseen streams between the  
crisp white borderlines,  were doused in clear liquids,
Draping the curtains in non received  heavy remorse,
the only things that were burdensome were the drapes as the weight of the liquid pulled at the seams holding them aloft.

Remorse was neither felt or given. just a feeling of accomplishment.  
Felt it in the moments that succeeded between this
gathering of dead lights as a flame was lit.
But not a whisper was echoed this flame was lifeless
in the eyes of its beneficiary.
But it lept upon the walls like a ballerina, gentle,
and dancing within the confides of its given dance.

He stood in the hallway the flashback was unexpected,
but he still stood there gazing and the beauty of something
given with such frailty that a breath could extinguish
its potential. His parents had no idea, they were slumbering
within the confines of blankets that entombed the warmth.
Clasping hand even in sleep love was a subconscious yearning.
The thing with these old houses some had decretive metal over
the wind bars in beauty crafted to keep things out.


But this was his plan, what cant get in cant get out.
He'd gone in there room and stole the key.
He took a last glance, and said,
             "I Love You
,Before sealing them within. The flames were silent like
a stalker watching waiting, till the inevitable conclusion.

As things started to burn more passionately, caressing every
thing it was touching. So the smoke started to thicken like
A heavy smog it got into places the fire had not reached.
Moans could be heard, then screams at the realisation of
what was happening. He Could hear them, he could see them.
For even though a teenager he was intuitively cunning,
tinkering with everything and anything.

And small cameras were dotted around the house,
looking listening to everything that was seen and spoken.
It had come to fruition due to one such thing he had heard
being discussed by his parents.

"I saw him in the woods,

                 "Doing what darling?

"He didn't see me but the neighbours cat,
                                  "you know soot,

"What did he do, nothing bad!

                "He tied it up,
"Then threw what I thought was water on it,
                  I thought it was nasty but then!!!  

"Then what, your scaring me,

"He lit a cigarette, I didn't even know he smoked,
  "Then he discarded the match,

       "The cat, oh my god the cat,

"But he recorded its screams, he recorded it dying,

"I couldn't move I was so angry, so humiliated,
        "I wanted to throttle him there and then,

"But ill phone the police tomorrow,
                  "He's not right, who would do that,

How dare they think that I can just be fobbed off,
         discarded.

                                             I was making music,
the screams were a delicate symphony,
            acoustics that's couldn't be reproduced.
It had to be from the source.

That laid, the plans for what now enveloped that house,
recording every noise, every scream. But what he needed
was for them to burn, to release the music he needed to
hear to complete his work. And they like parents gave it
there all, he had goose bumps as he heard there terror.
his eyes welled up, not in regret but the beauty that his
parent last words were given to him, so personal was this
moment that he'd never forget it.
                                                        
                                                                ­          "Thank Mum & Dad,

After this he released a mix tape, that could be only
conceived from an artist, in the womb of excellence.
That's the reviews he had, it brought shudders to your
heart and mind. It was if your humanity was crying out to it.

As so forth and more were sewn in the adulation of his work.

Now he needed to make more music, but he needed more
screams to make his next piece two were not enough..

So he wandered the night, dressed in unclean wear
so not to be confused with who, or what he was..
He hung around the homeless parts of town,
plastic sheeting for roofs.. and combustible bedding.
It was as if he'd planned himself. but he had to be smart.
for this was if ill planned he would have a needle in his
arm within the year. But he took his time tiny cameras
recording visually and sound.

He had gathered the combustible elements needed to
make this a orchestra of his needing, not a duet like before.
He didn't down play his past offering, but this would make
an album of despair and monument to the flame.

It had been raining, but only lightly as he needed some
dampness in the air on there sheets cardboard mattresses.
So not to raise suspicion on the dampness of there homes.

As they moved away from the embers of barrel fires,
yes he'd thought about that. Not every home was a
crematorium a cardboard and plastic coffin of there
choosing. He waited clasping his hands together breathing
on them as it was cold night. He liked to watch, a voguer
of sort, but his wasn't the fantasy of death it was to hear the
music that was about to be sung with smoke filled lungs.

He'd set up a unique but rudimentary way to light the fire,
a small gas hob with liquid within. it needed to be a certain
temperature ignite, he had tried it before in a field out west.
Deserted he'd made a mock up of this humble place.
And he wasn't mistaken it was fascinating, the flame spread
like the wind enveloping everything but, it was a dull for even
though the flames wept of everything, its tears turning all to
ash..

It was silent, deafening, he cried for a while, there should never
be censorship of the flame, for what is a log fire without the cracking of its inner self being consumed. This was just smoke
and regret. But he now looked down at the camp, his watch
counting down the precious moments.
                                                             He whispered.
                                              

                                                  "Thankyou,
­
And then like a super nova the darkness was ingulfed in
the aurora of flame, gliding over the ground as if a stream
of conscious reckoning. Those near by the civilians that were
                        across the street were transfixed.
As screams embellished the flames, this was my orchestra
of light and noise. Those across the street were either screaming
or videoing the scene.
I looked at them and wondered where there humanity
had gone to, as to film this moment rather than to rush in
and save the few that they could.

I watched as the engines came, extinguishing my masterpiece
choosing the night was always preferable to the day as flames
dance better when there is less light to contaminate there beauty.

My music, I had become quite the remixer, of vocal and rhythmic
sounds.
                               Within a week I had mad nine new songs.

I named them each as deserved, making them in memory of
those who perished that dreadful night.
            It was well received, a few thought it was a haunting
melody of humanity's struggle, while a few thought it was
over ambitious, and lacked the passion of my first piece.

All together it went down well, and the adulation of the
flame was kept, to honour that which gives as much as
takes the breath of life away.
A year had past and the door rang, it was an officer.

                 "Could you come to the station please,

Had I become the victim of my own success, had someone
broke down the acoustics of my music and realised what
they were?? So many thoughts went through the calm
exterior of my persona. But inside the flame dimmed,
had I lit the last candle. I was taken in to a room,
and questioned evasive not to the point but gathering
speed to the answer, where were you on the
                                                             ­       30th April 2019.

Alabi's were a fantastic thing to plan ahead, I had laced
my date with sleeping tablets to leave her in perpetual
slumber. And got back before she awoke, we made love
we were the flame and the wick.. and our sweat was the wax dripping from our form. The next week I dumped her.

They asked if I recognised a picture, blurry and ill framed
but I could make out the figure was me. No sir I don't why.
This person of interest is wearing your jacket, your logo!
I smiled and was truthful to a degree.
                                                             Planning is everything.

I threw maybe fifty into the crowd when I did a concert
in the city, when we drove past some homeless persons.
We donated what was left to them, do you realise how
cold these streets are, who am I to steal warmth away.
I don't wear my own merchandise what do you think I
am egotistical, no I wanted to help those who I could
have been if not for my music. I lost my parents I know
what its like to be alone.

I think the show went well, as I was released before
reporters even got a sniff. But I knew that my time
was a wick trying to keep the flame lit but dying out
anyway. I had made preparations for this time.

I had brought a club only for gigs, cheesy as hell but
had that 80's disco vibe the entire floor was light up.
But I had brought  the ingredients for thermite,
amazing what you learn in school and the internet.
But I never used mine different libraries in different
cities so not raise suspicion. I  invited the music critics
and others which I had personally disproved of.
its was going to be free drinks and themed 80's night.

Who can not want free drinks, well I wasn't going to be
disappointed 90% came, how lucky the few.
Phones were confiscated, no video, but more
importantly no phone calls to the outside world.
I told them at the end of the night that I was realising
a new song, they were like vultures to flesh.
As the night progressed some wanted to leave,
but we offered them the VIP section also lit flooring.

Now was the time, I had put heating elements under the floor
to ignite the thermite. A supernova of heat even though brief
would ignite the choir of harmony needed. I asked them,
                                                           ­ "Are you ready,

And then silence, I put on my welding glasses,
                                                        ­         I wasn't stupid.
Never look into the heart of the flame unless you want
to be blinded by its beauty.
I pressed a button and it was magnificent, it was like a tide of sunlight, they tried to scramble but all exits were locked.
It was like the wizard of Oz, and the witch I'm meltinggggg..
But this wasn't a fairy tale.. The adulation I had for these
chosen few. What excitement the others had missed.

I'd made my booth flame and smoke proof, I had my own
walkway but I knew that this was the last time I could pay
homage to the flame. As the screams died down.
The wicks smouldered and the floor looked more like a battle
field of  WWII. I began I knew I didn't have a lot of time.
But this was just a single I'd already got the backing music
ready. And as I worked away, I could hear the banging on
the reinforced doors. They gave me a breather to get my
work fulfilled.

I heard the doors start to give way but no matter
I'd only needed this time to tweak the music.
Given I'd started this over an hour ago, it was good
on my part for this not to be broadcast till I saw fit.
As the police burst through, gazing at the flaming
effigies that lied before them, some threw up, gross..

While others saw me smiling I pressed the button and
my new song was word wide.. its was called the critics
tried to burn me down. The response was gratifying.
Likes reached the hundreds of thousands in mere minutes.
Well it was only three minutes twenty five seconds long.
As they shoot at the booth I wiggled my finger at them.
I do like to plan ahead but dam was that loud against the
glass. Got to be said some had wicked aim, made me flinch
a few times.

But alas all things come to an end, I uploaded my videos
of what I had done. I was proud of my contribution to
my legacy and empowering others with my music.
As I looked down at the puddle, I tap danced in it for
a moment and then lit the lighter, I looked a them
and once again waved, I was like a funeral pyre.
A crematorium of silence and then I was gone.
                                                I didn't scream,
I was in her embrace and had done her proud.

The Great Debate started,
Parliament was the open forest,
electors were divided into two groups—
Sir Fox's, and
The Lion's,

The first group wanted to overthrow the Lion
from the sovereign head of the forest,
It was a tough job to confront Lion directly,
So, Sir Fox, appointed a Monkey as the Chief campaigner,
and that monkey appointed other monkeys in the business,
Scaring them with a story of vanishing trees, and living on
the land increases the mortality rate if Lion Party continues.

Monkey, the chief campaigner exclaimed,

“We are not living in the rule of law but in the rule of Lion,
All are equal, but the continuous target of a particular community,
Like a beautiful deer, by another community in majority
should be banned, Deers bring historic and aesthetic
significance to the forest
And need to be treated as the same,”
Deers bellowed gleefully hearing this.

Cows felt hurt,
their exclusion from Monkey’s speech
proved to be a setback to the Fox’s Party,
Cows were the most targeted community
by the Carnivores, everyone in the forest knew,
Potential voters were lost to Lion’s Party.

Polarising speeches of Chief continued,
It brought Rhinoceros to its side,
Seeing rhino in political rallies,
Hippopotamus chipped in,
To counter the increasing weight
Political advisor of Lion, i.e, Tiger,
persuaded Elephant to become an official
member of their party.

Hate speeches increased in numbers
Giraffe, the bearer and upholder of law,
Overlooked everything,
the long neck looked tilted towards
an ideology.

Rumours became truth,
truth became rumour
Monkey was good in it,
And an army of monkeys were excellent.

Parrots, Pigeons, Peacock,
****, Cuckoo, Cat,
Loved the importance they got,
Disseminated the Fox loving songs.
The listeners felt threatened,
They had an enemy living between them
and they were considering them friends,
They thanked the Parrot, Pigeon, Peacock
for pointing them out.

Now, biped hated quadruped,
Quadruped hated reptiles,
Reptiles did the same to amphibians,
And in this way the whole animal kingdom
danced in chaos,

The fiery speeches of Sir Fox helped
in creating illusion,
The slogan of the Man as a common enemy
was changed to, Feline as a common enemy,
Felines joined Sir Fox’s Party,
And Canines ran to Lion’s Party,
Obvious was difficult to observe
Obscure was easy to see.

**to be continued

one crumb for you
and one for you.

i share this food,
the finest there is,
bought with
hard earned
hot cash,

in the hopes that y'all
stop mocking me.

you know i'm
completely
fearful of y'all
yet y'all seem
to take
advantage
of it.

parading around
and doing that funky walk
and giving me looks,
please stop.

take it!
take all the crumbs!
please just leave me
alone,
pigeons!

MY HOOLIGAN IS READY TO BE LAID TO REST



YOU SEE, I TOLD YOU ONE DAY, THAT I USED TO FANTAISIZE ABOUT

TAKING A KID, BECAUSE, I LIKED THE LOOK OF THEIR MOO COWS ON FRONT KNEE

AND THE SHIPS ON THE BACK KNEE, AND I USED TO GO OUT AND GRAB THE KIDS

YA KNOW SCARING THEM, AT THE MALL, AND I CAME UP TO A FORT, IN LAKE GINNINDERRS

AND SCARED SOME KIDS INTO THINKING, I WAS GOING TO KIDNAP THEM, AND I WAS GOING TO THE

TOILET TO WAIT FOR A KID, AND I MIGHT HAVE ONCE BEEN KNOWN AS A PHEDAPHILE TO PEOPLE

BUT I AM REFORMED, NOW, YOU SEE, I USED TO FANTASIZE, ABOUT TYING THEIR MOO COW AND SHIPS

AND SQUASHING THEM TO THE GROUND, I WAS MENTAL, AND REALLY, I HATE THESE VOICES TRYING FOR

ME TO KEEP THESE THOUGHTS IN MY HEAD, I WAS A REAL MEAN DUDE, I WALKED AROUND SCARING KIDS,

MY ADULT DIDN’T WANT TO DO THIS, MY KID DIDN’T WANT TO EITHER, AND BECAUSE I COULDN’T HANDLE DAD’S

DISCIPLINE PATTERN, IT WASN’T HIS FAULT, BUT HE KNEW NOTHING ABOUT THIS, I HEARD THIS VOICE SAYING

DON’T EVEN TRY TO MESS WITH BIG BAD BRIAN, HE’S NOT LIKE US, NO WAY, NO FEAR, ONE KID, SAID I WAS ONE OF THEIR MOB

AND DAD THOUGHT I WAS NICE, CAUSE BACK THEN I WAS A COWARD, WHO NEEDED HELP TO GET WHAT I WANT IN LIFE,

YOU SEE I GRABBED THESE KIDS, BECAUSE, OF MY LAST TWO LIVES TRAGICALLY TAKEN AT AGE 8, AND THE KIDS

WHO KILLED MY LAST LIFE AFTER GREAME THORNE, WHICH WAS A CAT, WHERE I WAS RUN OVER BY A SCOOTER

I WAS GRABBING KIDS EVERYWHERE, I FELT A REAL BUZZ BY DOING THAT, YOU SEE I GOT AN ERECTED ****

FROM IT, I WANT YOU TO KNOW, THIS COULD EFFECT ME HELPING PEOPLE IN THE FUTURE, BUT AS I REMEMBER

WALKING AROUND THE TOILETS WITH ROPE AND GRABBING KIDS AND THIS MADE THEIR PARENTS MAD, I DIDN’T AND

STILL DON’T KNOW, WHAT WOULD HAVE HAPPENED, IF I CARRIED OUT THIS FEAT, MATE, I WANT THIS, WHICH IS MY HOOLIGAN

TO BE LAID TO REST, IT IS WRONG TO DO THIS, I WASN’T GETTING WHAT I WANT OUT OF LIFE, SO I TOOK IT OUT ON THE KIDS

BY HASSLING THEM BY TYING UP THEIR MOO COWS WITH THEIR SHIPS, THEY SCREAMED SAYING AHHHHHHH!, THE CRAZY PERSON

HAS GOT ME, I SAID, YEAH, I AM A CRAZY PERSON, AND YOU ARE COMING WITH ME, SO COME HERE KID, AND WE WILL COOK

YOU ON THE STOVE, AND HAVE FRESH TASTY KID FOR DINNER, I WANT TO BE A KIDNAPPER, NOTHING MORE AND NOTHING LESS

AND EVERY TIME I SAW KIDS ANYWHERE, I WOULD CHASE THEM, YA KNOW FOLLOWING THEM AROUND, MAKING THEM JITTER

ONE KID SAID, TO ME, WHY THE **** ARE YOU FOLLOWING, AND I THINKING IF I LOOK CRAZY, I WILL LOOK LIKE I AM TRYING TO SCARE HIM

BUT REALLY I WAS PLAYING A SMALL GAME WITH THEM, TRYING TO GRAB THEIR MOO COW AND SHIPS, AND TIE THEM UP TOGETHER

AND I WAS HAVING A FIELD DAY, I AM COMMITTING NO CRIME, WELL, THAT IS WHAT I THOUGHT THEN, DAD MIGHT HAVE THOUGHT HEV WAS HELPING

BUT BY TRYING TO HAVE THE LAST WORD, MADE ME FEEL REALLY HYPED UP WITH GRABBING KIDS, I AM NOT BLAMING DAD, ACTUALLY, I AM BLAMING

NOBODY IN HINDSIGHT, IT WAS MY SILLY SCHITZOPHRENIC DELLUSIONS, THAT ARE THE REAL CULPRIT, YOU SEE, THINKING IT’S ALRIGHT TO GRAB OR

SCARE YOUNG CHILDREN, I FEEL MY HOOLIGAN, CREEPING BACK INTO MY BODY, BUT, HE WAS A DELLUSIONAL HOOLIGAN, AND I HATE WHAT THAT HOOLIGAN DID

IT MAKES TED BUNDY A GOOD GUY FOR DYING AND KIDNAPPING ME, BY MAKING ME TIE MYSELF UP, AND FANTASIZING ABOUT TYING BRENDAN UP AND

MAKING BRENDAN HYPE ME UP, BY SHOWING HIS BIG ADULTS KID LEGS, WITH HIS MOTHER AND FATHER, EVEN IF I WENT TO JAIL, FOR A WEEKEND

AND I WENT TO PROBATION HEARINGS FOR 1 YEAR, I LEARNT THAT KIDNAPPING KIDS CAN BE FATAL FOR ME, SO AS I LEFT THE PROBATION FOR THE LAST TIME

I DID MY FAMILY PERSON THING, BY GOING TO GLEBE PARK ALA CARTE, TO LISTEN TO THE MUSIC, BUT I LEARNT, CANBERRA HATED ME FOR THE KIDNAPPING THOUGHTS

AND THIS MADE ME SCARED TO EVER GRAB ANOTHER KID AGAIN, AND MY PARENTS PUT ME ON MEDICATION, AND I AM STILL ON MEDICATION, AND

THE THOUGHTS WERE GOING AWAY, BUT I DID VOLUNTEER WORK AS YOU KNOW, AT THE RAINBOW, COOKING, VACCUMING, AND ALSO CREATIVE WRITING

AND THAT LASTED 3 YEARS, AND MIND YOU, I ALSO DID A BIT OF BUSH WALKING, KOSCIUSKO AND JERVIS BAY, TUMUT AND MANY OTHERS, I WAS A REALLY

POSITIVE PERSON, AND THE PSYCHIATRIST, TRIED TO REDUCE MY MEDICATION, WHICH WAS A MISTAKE, I KILLED MY CAT, THINKING IT WAS THE DINGO THAT

KILLED AZARIA, I DON’T WANT TO BE JUDGED FOR THIS, I WAS SICK AND PLACED ON THE FAT DRUG, THE FAT DRUG, GIVING ME NO ENERGY, SLOWLY KILLING ME

AND GIVING ME NASTY LOOKUPS EVERY TIME I TRIED TO WORK, AND I WORKED AT AINSLIE VILLAGE, AS A HOUSE CLEANER, BUT LOOKING AT MY HOUSE, I WAS LIKE

ANY MAN, DOES A GREAT JOB HOUSE CLEANING FOR OTHERS, AND LETTING HIS OWN HOUSEWORK SLIP, I DON’T WANT TO GET EVICTED, BUT I AM GETTING HELP

IN CLEANING, BY DUO SERVICES, MAYBE OTHER POOR PEOPLE CAN GET THE SAME SERVICES, CAUSE I GET SPRING CLEANS AS WELL, GIVE OTHER PEOPLE A HAND

I GOT FUNDING, BUT WHY CAN’T YA RICH *******, INSTEAD OF COMPLAINING ABOUT POOR PEOPLE’S HOUSES, TRY AND HELP THEM CLEAN IT, DON’T BE RICH *****

BE THEIR FRIENDS, NOW, INSTEAD OF BEING A HOMELESS ***, I AM A WRITER AN ARTIST AND A YOUTUBE ENTERTAINER, I AM DEALING WITH MY VOICES

BUT THE FEAR IS THERE, CAUSE I UPSET A LOT OF DUDES, I AM SORRY, THAT I AM NOT PERFECT, EVERYTHING I DID IN THE PAST, IS IN THE PAST

OK, ONE GOOD THING THAT CAME FROM MY CHILDHOOD, WAS THE D OF E AWARD SCHEME, I GOT BRONZE AND SILVER, AS WELL AS MY MATES GETTING ****** WITH ME

MAKING ME FEEL I WAS A SCHOOLIE, WHETHER THEY WERE JUST BEING NICE OR NOT, I STILL THANK THEM,

OK BYE DUDES

The scarecrow is bored playing the same old game
Cold wet clothes hanging from a wooden frame.
He has no choice but to stand perfectly still
Scaring all the bird s at the top of the hill.
A crow calls out from under the hedgerow
“Catch me, scare me old wooden scarecrow”
But the scarecrow was staring across at a stable
As he had noticed there’s food laid on a table.
“Make haste little bird and fly over to the meadow
Bring me some nice juicy berries from the mistletoe”
“Please little bird, hurry now and be on your way
And can you bring m back some of the lovely hay”
But when the crow returned he found him asleep
He had become bored counting sheep.
The Crow lay beside his feet to keep himself warm
And needed shelter from the oncoming storm.
The scarecrow awoke and looked at his shoe
He had found a friend he could talk to.

I thought I was
scaring
myself for
you
bleeding blood
true
but then I
realized
we only ever
scar ourselves
for ourselves
in the end

ECLIPSE ©
Willowmena Wren©, 9/1/14

Don't let them sway you - you must stay true
Don't let them consume you - you must not be confused
Don't let them make a case for something you know is not real
Don't let them come between us or our fates you will seal
We are but stars in a dark, blue night
Our brightness blinds the wicked one's sight
We have love between us - as it's been through the years
We have warmth and sunshine to calm all our fears
Envious people regret nothing they do
They squish and they squall about others' as they muse
Grievous people stirring up angry words
They twist and they howl, scaring even the birds
No one can alter our fates as they do
But we can eclipse them - yes, me and you!

You are a hopeless romantic, an unforgivable wreck. An unfortunate bohemian are you. Forgetting how to maintain a smile in the simplest of times, you doth protest too much. You are young, you know nothing. You are young, you are afraid. You have the rest of your life to stay where you are, never moving forward but never truly experiencing standing still. You are wicked. You are prepared. You are eager, you are ready. You, with thoughts like art and hopes like wildfires.

We interrupt this program
To tell you that your madness is showing
Lighten up on the glow stick purchases
You're scaring the children

My hands were shaking
Not as hard as yours, I'm sure

You almost lost everything and I
was forced to watch,
bearing silent witness to a
destruction not my own
but at which I felt at fault,
thus I digested it as my own

Who knows?

In my mind, I had lived fantasies of
something like this happening--
you, helpless, I hold fast to your life and then
salvaging you, just barely,
scaring us both out of life and then
falling back into something new--
dark, strange, and yet intimate

This has happened to me twice now (for real)
and neither time was nearly as glamorous as
I had played out in my mind

(I'm a stupid girl)

Both times I felt drained of a vital energy I couldn't
call back--ever

I became an echo
of me
and us?
we were skeletons of
the children we once were. Both times
robbed me---
of sleep, and years, and appetite.
robbed me---
of innocence, and soul, and
love
which always
bleeds out uncontrollably
in times like these
unclottable

and out with love
spreads guilt and shame

(I'm a jinx, I'm a cursed girl)

across the tar, filling the black empty
cracks with invaluable energy

Full of foreign weight
cargo stored too long
too far pushed down our throats
too removed

My hands were shaking
Not as hard or as long as yours
I'm sure

Have heaven now **** me
Prior glimmering in its shade
Where every fear then not conclude
The stolen voices that she gave

To me on the wings and shoulders
Loosely agitated fogs
To collapse a mist of my see-throughence
Scaring blind hands reaching for love

Maybe in a whisper
Maybe in a wondering soul

Have darkness now judge me
After light has grown me old
Where often so still comes the protrusion
Of empty words from so long ago  

Along the way I've been dismantled
Now heaven lifts it's mighty blade
While wishing only to've heard the faintest
Sound of love so beautifully unfrayed

Maybe in a whisper
Maybe in a wondering soul

i hear you through the stained glass
screaming at children, scaring the **** out of them
*******, you're ******* tough, aren't you?
telling a nine year old to jump in the garbage where she belongs

with your cigarette stained screams
and hair that would gladly twist it's tendrils
around any unsuspecting victim
quick enough to squeeze the life out of them
before they had the sense to run

and this little girl has strength enough to keep her chin up,
keep moving her little legs to grab her icee
from the corner market in this early summer heat

and you're still on your ******* porch
yelling about little ******* pinching your baby

if you want to be the guard dog of this neighborhood
let's get you a chain and leash
because there's no question in my mind
that you are a *****

My eyes alight softly upon pale velvet waxing
Whose grace is as weightless as a tilting feather
Slowly orbiting between gentle arches
Caressing the space that separates two hearts
And minds locked in a tidal waltz

Waning, my gaze shifts to supple curves
Outlining the crescent shaped body
Which loving light reflects in full
As the beats of my pulse rapidly impact
Scaring the surface with my every rotation
That births a new phase with every rise
Yet sets my sights again upon distant beauty
Teasing the mind to reach out and embrace my muse
Relenting to the gravity ever drawing me nearer
Until we collide in throes of violent passion
Two bodies merging in the fires of love
To become one forever more

Sometimes I feel like I want you to die
(Or maybe it's me who I want dead)
Your happiness is sickening
(It's twisting me up inside)
You're looking at me strangely now
(Am I scaring you)
Have I said something odd?
(Have I said something cruel?)
I've made you cry again
(Why are you still with me?)
I want to let you go, but I can't
(I'm such a parasyte)
I wish you would fight back
(I wish you'd hurt me as much as I have you)
I wish you would leave
(I need you)

What happened?
You've changed.
Slowly distancing yourself from me.
It's scaring me.
What happened to,
Us?
Days go by and it seems as if you're falling out of love with me.
What happened to forevermore?
-K.L.

A family of sheep live in harmony, all from different areas
Different ages and different ideas. They all came together
United in a friendship, strong enough to be called a family
But there are wolves out there…. Terrible creatures that
Want nothing more to attack the sheep. They once might
Of been sheep, but something dark and twisted shaped them
Into the creatures they are now. They stalk, coming closer to
The family, moving in to destroy the harmony they live in
But as they come close they feel a presence pushing at them
Something protecting the sheep, something dark as them, sending
Shivers down the wolves spines, something terrible enough
To scare the mighty wolves

A mighty bear, massive in size, vast bigger than the wolves
The bear has strong curved claws ready to attack any that
Approach. Its speed is also a deadly trait the bear possesses
Able to out run any evil coming at him. The bear also has a
A super amazing sense of smell, able to smell the stench from
Miles away.
The bear perks up, catching the smell of a creature that doesn’t
Belong…

The other creature is the sheepdog. Though not as big as the
Bear the sheepdog has a presence that scares the wolves.
The sheepdog has fangs as long as the wolves and attacks
Just as ferocious as the wolves. While the bear knows when
Violence can be avoided by scaring the wolves away, the
Sheepdog does not know this, he jumps at the violence
Instead, taking the impulse to attack and destroy, marking
Him close to the wolves.

The bear circles to the sheepdog and together they move to
The wolves, ready to protect the family behind them
The wolves leave, scattering to avoid them, facing away
From the ever presence

the peeling paint is suddenly so exciting
when you have something else to do.
a million pounds of expectations rests on my head,
choking me, scaring me.
but does it really matter anymore?
petty pleas of help tend to fall on deaf ears.