Era

she was born of the sky
Her hair forever in the wind
She was lost and proud
Her family scattered and broken

It was a time of opals
And fire
It was a time of fireworks
And wide eyes

It was not a time to retreat
Into a private world
Ruled by domestic demons
And watchers inhabiting the
Roof she called home

She was a girl who was free
She was a girl that laughed
A girl that danced under the night
A girl that breathed in magic
To kiss away the pain
A girl that exposed her milk thighs
On the grass under the stars

She was born of the sky
And in the end died of it
She opened her arms like wings
Pinned to a crucifix
Her final pact was sealed by blood, sand and
Salt water

Attics

Hello everyone

I was desperate to do a new post. I feel it's been a while. I started producing this seemingly random strong of thought and thought wow...this is odd. So l decided naturally to post it :-p

Moreover though read the last bit and return and try to understand what this represents the central metaphor is te sense of a rumble weed collecting dust picking up stray thoughts in your mind and clumping them all together as quite literally rolling with them! This is what I imagine inside my mind looks like sometimes rather dusty? What do you think?

Anyway without further adieu this is Attics.

ATTICS

Ever feel like a parasite
Multiply that feeling
You might know
How thoughts can bleed

A story ends and
Then begins
Endings are the top
Of the circle
And the circle is a train

I felt like air
I was falling
Floating at the same time
So free and disconnected
Blowing about everything
Content with invisibility
And Anonymity

Stars are stuck into
The sky
Stars are stuck by
God and no one understands
Why they burn
When they stop
Why they don't find a way to
Keep fighting

What turns a shining light into
A pitt of burning darkness
What fury shakes atoms to explode

Dust stings the air
Been there
Been here
Not long enough
To see clear

We keep attics
And they are full of tumble weeds
Who knows what they'll collect
Who knows what strange mish mash
Will collate in the dusty recesses
Of ourselves

This Page

A blank page is all I need to create and destroy everything

I can undo it all I can watch the page fold in on itself

I can watch the lines and symbols float over the page

And project the lives of consciousness I project into it

I can craft anything I choose on this blank canvas

I am God I have no plan only a mind and a will

To travel onto this line

And the next

I’m on fire there’s something buried deep inside

And it’s going to live forever on this page

It’s going to rise up and swell out of me

There will be waves on this page

It won’t look it, but you’ll feel the slight swell

From this stanza

Into the next and the seemingly random gap of lines

Has a certain order if you look deeper

If you can see into me

Into the thing that this is now

Because it’s something more now

You and I here together

We’ve done something here today

We’ve travelled places

We’ve created

Broken

In a world where a lot of emotions, thoughts and feelings are forbidden I think poetry is a good way to express them.

I've always felt very strongly about bullying which is inevitable once being a bullied person myself.

I think it's such an isolating experience where it's effective. The funny thing is how it does break you, there is part of you that remains fragile. Maybe it's not dangerous in the most obvious ways but it's effects are subtle and I think we just need more understanding people in the world.

Because I truly believe this stuff can resurface and you'll watch a man of 45 recede to the age of 12.

Broken

How dare you
Yes innocent you
Who whispered words
Words the girl repeats everyday
In her head
And now the girl is a woman
But it's too late you took something
From her and she's broken

How could you think
How could you prosper
While she tested the fragile lining
Of her wrist on the metal lining of torn cans
And watched it drip
So red in so pale a room
Drip drip drip

How dare you
Yes you happiness in tact
You'll never know
The thoughts and darkness
That overwhelm and consume her
You'll never know what can't be undone
You can't understand
You broke her
But you've already forgotten
She never will
How dare you

How dare she
She who has so much to offer
She dangles her life helplessly
She can't understand the feelings
That's because part of her doesn't work
It makes her raw sad and numb
All at once
The taste of iron surfacing on the tongue a young woman
Older than she deserves
Spoiled and Broken

Backyard

I'll be honest sometimes I have no idea what I'm doing when I write these poems. I know the learned ones are scowling at me right now. But I suppose what I mean is that I think the best poems are discoveries.

This poem evolved out of a few haphazard images. I just kept writing and of course some of the stuff that comes out is forced but keep going and you get to do this great thing where you essentially complete the thought.

So this poem is a complete stream of consciousness which I do not apologise for. Writing isn't always about doing something artistically brilliant for me as you know the blog and writing are first and foremost for me.

Hopefully poetry can help tap into that unimaginable millionth part of me as Milan Kundera might say :)

Backyard

Grass between my toes
Films black and white
Technicolor rose cotton
Dress

Dress fabric denim
Silk pants plays nylon
Burgundy coca cola
Veranda

Wood chisel white saw
Dust light rays of white
Hot sun between grass
Beyond the patio

This is old barrow
Sand turf dirt black
Fingers bogged nails
Down raking planting mowing
Forging holes building home

Poles yard sticks
Trampoline bounce pagola
Sunset milk Marsala
Orange zest lemonade

Wild furry grass under my feet

Pillow Talk

Pillow Talk
Not wanting to distract
From the mallet swaying
Towards the back of her head
Jackie laid low into the pillow
And breathed deep the thick
Wall of air baking the back of her
Tongue.

All there is

Stand by the window
Stand by the door
Stand by the road
Stand by the shore

Puzzle at the colours
Puzzle at the bends
Puzzle at the sounds
Puzzle at the ends

Dreamily lurking cold
Rug up feel cold
Feel shivering spikes
Feel deep down its not right
Not as it should be

Queer how afraid
Ought we be
What ought we think
At night in the darkness of the sea
Do we use it to fill us up
Keep our inside full
And our hearts cold with fear

Sit feel the jarring quality of concrete
Sit still and listen to sounds you won't understand
Sit and wander in your head and into the sky
Sit close your eyes now open them
There you are