Fur

3d5e44b257578850726dffec1e5af373If we are honest

few things are honest anymore

everything is manipulated or

viewed through a lens

where is truth?

truth isn’t what most people want

not really

if a woman says

do my thighs look big in this?

is she asking for truth? or encouragement?

sometimes truth burns

sometimes it’s like an assault

if you live in the path of truth too long

you become immune to its sting

and nothing can hurt you anymore

but freedom

is not for everyone

 

the truth was

she hadn’t loved me in an eternity

if at all

whilst that felt like acid on my soul

it released the hope

to find another host

someone maybe who wasn’t being lied to

told she was the most beautiful

told she hadn’t aged a day

told she was the only one

how often is that so in a crowded world?

Disney would have us believe

frequently

but love

the real kind that doesn’t like the over-used name

that love is rarer than anything

maybe it doesn’t touch every person

you have to be capable of it

few are

it takes a humility of spirit and a depth

this society doesn’t encourage

 

the only way forward

listen to your gut

the feeling of worms and knives being turned

tells you when something isn’t right

even if others protest so loudly

it splits darkness from night

hold on to your truth

it’s there on the edges of deception

always reflecting never concealing

how easy it is

to believe someone when they say

it will only ever be you

there will be no one else

you are irreplaceable

how easy to want that to be true

 

but we are only savages playing in

high heels and wigs

we are wolves sitting at wooden pews

kneeling before weeping effigies

is it any wonder they cry for us?

we are children licking our sticky fingers

and plundering the honey jar

we are humans without conscience

if we briefly entertain it

soon we’re running in the opposite direction

for it takes the end of ego to

go to war with illusion

far better to sup on the drug that promises

a less sorrowful life

 

who wants to believe they are not

the one who will be loved

the one who will be held dearly

who wants to believe it might not

happen to them?

rather we deceive ourselves gladly

for one toke of the pipe

one last hit

a quick injection of bliss

to believe even as the voice inside says

this is not real

the fantasy, the fairy tale

we grew up thinking showed us

the future

as faulty as a soothsayer

gazing into empty crystal

there are no answers in lies

 

so when she told you

you were everything to her

she omitted the part that came after

unless you’re no longer

in which case another

will in time replace you

and you will walk alone as you

always have

wondering why

your heart was built of

fur

prickling from the

inside

out

Drown by weight

c92d59155b01b6e40b01bdf6db68c5b2Why

didn’t you walk the other way?

when you knew you’d flay me with your tortured need?

and why

didn’t I see ahead of time

to the days where laughter was silenced

and only sadness took the oar

out into the middle of the river

where you said

jump

it’s for the best

there’s no one here for you

anymore

I grew up thinking

loyalty and devotion would see me right

if I had just known

the more you give, the more is taken

leaving you too empty

to drown by weight

By the frequency

canstock1995090You can discover when you are hurting

by the frequency of things causing anger

to rage like a hot tea-pot

given no respite

you can know when you are in pain

by the diminishment of senses

stillness in one place

as hours tick over head

submerging you in silent trespass

in a life that feels suddenly

void and laid bare

you can ask of yourself one last time

to stand up and listen to the barking dog outside

howl his discontent in a way you may never dare

the buzzing in your head a tickle

mindful it’s not over yet

there is a life waiting, maybe not

as full as some would have it

for there are those who go alone

and those who need a hot air balloon

we are all capable of flight

even if long hidden are our smiles

time

that trespasser of calm

wills us on

until at last there is only

diminishment

and we can say

we lived a life honestly

we did not let pain

wear us into flat stones

to be skimmed merely on surface

we submerged ourselves

like hot children

running for the relief of water

hear them now

they are so eager

Throw

feeling-lost

She entered the shop

the bell attached rang

her presence known

fingers combing glass boxes

containing riddles

why was she here?

to find answers she supposed

why those in glass houses

throw the hardest stones

Steady in the walk

xxxxxWhen she was very young

younger than the reborn

who climb out of shell

lick themselves shellac

for fear of bombs

before those days

in a cradle among men

the oracle told her

you are thursdays child

doomed it seems to go far

the road will not always be there

to see among weeds

at times

crows will fly down

try to peck out your eyes

at times

the sun will bake you still

in mid-stride

at times

your heart will be shredded

and make a good meal

on desert floor

for pudding you will bake yourself soft

open up your latched doors

for night to sweep clean

such your journey will seem

endless and sharp

like climbing through thorns

touching your blood

as it writes out the will

fate has bequeathed those

unable to stand still

every once in a while

a friend will offer you shelter

sit you near to the harth

bandage your hurt

do not forget

those who protesth loudest

are often spliced souls

seeking revenge like tempting

mirage beckons hungry traveler

however much you may seek

this gentle solace

it comes with a price

take off the journey and inherit

their destruction

better you stay on the road

act as you are treated

for death in rehearsal

makes soldiers of the acursed

soon they will sink into sand

you will find yourself

with those who remain

holding your hand

steady in the walk

Greater solace

651d3294ace9c6e46b0b18587904b847

There you are

picture yourself

standing in a vacated room

the walls are nondescript

from the window comes a little wan sun

hardly enough for warmth

you pull yourself closer

recalling how as a child

sitting on old iron radiators in winter

they’d say you’d develop hemorrhoids

in those days

the sound of scuffed shoes running for class bell

figuring you had a few moments yet

to stare out at brick and cement

stretch out reverie

a voice inside your head

surely this isn’t all there is?

you made a pact with yourself

to get the hell out

whatever it took

gathering your books

mindful of their ticket

you forgot yourself in dream

walking past the classroom

after all

learning is better in the mind

than grind of chalk on board

some boy kicking you in the back

with sweaty socks

you knew even then

this was but a stepping stone

though if asked you couldn’t say

what of the grim facade urged you most

to escape

 

and now

all these years later

more alone than that day

when covered by childhoods vigor

and the smell of something better

just around the corner

hope has been sore in her visits

silence too often your friend

as we fall one by one out of the egg carton

we are without wings

without safety harnesses

all the others found places

in busy lives, babies, families, jobs

the weave and knot of life

whilst you stood watching out of the window

glimmering

expecting to fly

 

now in shallow rooms

artifice has left her scent

they tell you the last one has passed over

you feel it in the curve of your chest

no more hands to scoop you back

from your leaning motion to find

somewhere to breathe

where trees are ever green

sunlight full on face

obscuring all trace of bleak homes

terraced and hollow

where you can hear the flush of

neighbors loud toilet

piercing cry of another

born into fitful times

where you never understood

your own role

just the fallacy of drowning sorrows

sundays in the bar

knocking back glasses of regret

nothing could spur you faster

toward wide open space where

no trace of sorrowful city remained

 

and wherever you go

there you are

still back against the wall

still with the locked door

school girl tights bunched in your mouth

hearing muffled voices

discussing your inability to speak

how long can you hold your tongue girl?

before the need to scream

unfurled

and in one howl you swallow yourself

all the disappointment

all the lost chances

breaking through cloud

fast diminishing in oboe sky

open the storeroom of your mind

clear out those long stored hurts

preserved in obscura

 

you may feel you have nothing

but in the sundering fall of flight

we find again our urge

never to quite escape

perhaps more a reinterpretation

carrying on no more alone than before

for we are born crying in singular pitch

in each step grow further to our end

it is in the humility of knowing this

we find our greater

solace

Permission to be destroyed

25-wasting-time

There’s an old saying, the man felt sorrow because he had no arm

until he met a man who had no leg

comparison being an uncomfortable bed mate

all of us could do with sinking to our knees

mindful our own aches in the sum of things

matter and matter less

not dismissing but appreciating

someone out there is worse off

when I feel betrayed I recall

someone else was betrayed twice as bad

when in the eighth month of pregnancy

he said I’m leaving

when I feel lonely I think

of those who lost everyone and never

regained belonging

when I feel sorrow

it is the sorrow of those who survived

concentration camps only to find light

once more

that keeps me endeavouring to do my best

even if I fall

even if I cannot always

by that I do not diminish

anyone’s hurt

but it is worth considering

if others survived

we too

can pick ourselves up

and not give permission

to be destroyed

Seven years


Seven years I let myself formulate excuses

not to return

and on the eighth

guilt had made her way into my closed heart

laying a light ribbon on the frayed part

 

going back was like being reborn

as yourself and not yourself at all

I walked familiar streets, spoke similar words

accent hardly altered

as if no time had passed

and so they said

you look exactly the same

though they were changed and I were changed

all altered irrevocably with time worn stain

as if glass no longer could be relied upon

to give accurately our real prescription

even friends were foreign handed

or I no longer of that land

left behind when things were too sad

I sealed the bottle and set adrift

seven years of absence builds

many barnacles to anyone’s vision

when the damned see the truth

the liars remove their seaweed masks

curtsy finely and pronounce

we did our part

exit stage left

standing on warm boards of the theater of pretend

where dance and energy has dissipated

into cloven wings

hear me now

shadows of my past

the girl with the big smile

her perfect fine figured mouth

and matching dragon tooth skirt

as if we dressed together in the darkness

of one another

except she is a mother and

I have a cut-out womb ebbing in formaldyade

don’t worry I feel no pain now

some of us are bearly hanging on

what good would a child of weakness

bring the sorrow further inland?

I miss her

like I write letters in wax to myself

those over easy days we knew who we were

or felt … some approximation of reality

good enough for then

when she looked at me

unequal teeth smiling and needing

how did the splinter drive that deeply?

wedge like sword between this time and before?

we know nothing of the other

as a blue bottle

cast on green and yellow water

will wait

seven years

to reach shore

when I climbed out and dusted myself off

she was gone

her footprints erased from the sand

nobody recognized me

only the echoes of an angry sea

calling me back to exile

whispering

you do not belong here 

and the white cliffs looked relieved

when I flew overhead

my heart aching with loss

the cheer of relief

like a season

changing from golden red to

brown

Shadow play

6cc9b0ac631900c33d5ebe8f655ea9e4

I will leave you the stage

the costumes

grease paint

I will not watch you string the puppets

construct the game

you may smile behind your fan

pouring tea from porcelain

to hide your true intent

often the best are most talented

at climbing the ladder

nobody will believe

she who invisibly bleeds

show the knife

they’ll say surely not

they’re so nice

often the stab

comes from those who claim

they have your back

only then are you free

to show your wings