Month: October 2016

falling

1

I was born on Saturday.

Turned 30 on Monday.

The days between, a blur.

Especially nought to four

and the early 20s

when breast and bottle was everything.

 

2

I’ve said before: I recall

crawling across the floor,

soiling the moment, thinking

Shit. Again!

 

A nought to four experience I think/

I hope/ I know the blood that came

like a spring after rain, came

from the mouth, the source;

found the gap,

 

out to sea. I’d turned 3 and got

3 stitches to match. This hurt,

after the buzz of the honey tree.

 

3

I know the slow trek across the desert,

camels, horses; long-legged birds

at the water; crocodile, hippopotamus;

the speared fish caught in the rip,

dragged by the net; the furtive

glance of primate: I climbed a tree

and disturbed the colony.

 

4

At 15 I hung from the curved

branch of an apple tree; slid

down in slow coils, and you fell,

on all fours, my girl.

 

I remember your chestnut curls,

the reddening skin, still pale, I skimmed;

and him, he stood erect,

petrified. We swooned, and he too

fell.

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Harbour’s Roll

Streets of stone and slap of sea;
a rising prow, oar’s deep dip.
The harbour is waking, rolling.
A fine fog slides up Tyne and Tees.
Stop for a tankard – make it dark;
make it another, foamy and deep
and watch the fog roll to make
the streets shiny slick.
A stone step, hobnail-ground;
rattle of a hand-cart; boy’s call,
workman’s cuss.
Arch and livery, a filling sail.
The men hurry and ropes flick.
Cargo to load, tightening hawser
Keep it up, boys, she sails at noon.

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Tick tock …Tick tock

artTick tock,

Tick tock,

Tick tock,

Time resounds in my ears,

I stand on foreign soil,

A barren plain looms before me,
The splendour of my body dims,

I question my womanliness,

I spend many hours

Analyzing the worth,

The value,

Of my life.
Tick tock,

Tick tock,

Tick tock,

Time,

Vicious robber,

It lessens my agility,

Threatens the things I enjoy,

The things I love,

Though not clothed in black,

I mourn,

I grieve

The loss of youth.
Tick tock,

Tick tock,

Tick tock,

Time,

Society honours and adores

Youth,

Aging is scorned,

Pitied,

Ignored,

Forgotten.
I silently scream,

Youth you have nothing to offer,

Although you rule supreme.
Tick tock,

Tick tock,

Tick tock,

The sound goes on.
I stare into eternity,

Grieving,

Like a woman at the graveside,

I struggle with doubt,

One part desires to stay,

The other prepares to meet God,

Death

Calls to all,

Yet it brings fear.
The enormity of my humanity

Bursts forth as the dawn,

Reminding me this world is not my home,

I will,

I must,

Complete the task,

So I can face a loving God

And live with Him eternally.
Tick tock,

Tick tock,

Tick tock,

Time’s up.

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The Foe

ezra-and-lydia-july-2916It’s gradual,

In a way,

A kindness,

Yet,

A sneak,

A vandal,

A robber,

Deceitful,

Invisible.
Patiently

It leaves its touch on the innocent

From the moment of birth,

Faint marks,

Scars,

Aches,

Pains,

Creating illusion.
It outlasts,

Outruns,

Its work is endless,

It is relentless in its pursuit,

Tireless in its resolve.
I am philosophical,

A realist,

As I answer those who ask

What I feel,

What I think,

Yet in the coal black night,

I tremble at its name,
He waits,

Patient,

Silent,

While I beg,

Hope,

Dream,

And yearn for

Just one more day.
Like ivy clinging to an old house,

It hangs on,

None escape,

It is the inevitable outcome.
Victory!

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A Brother like No other

flower-gloryI have a brother,
He plays keyboard in a band,
Ronnie is his name,
He’s my brother,
He’s like no other.

I watch while his friends jeer,
Call him crazy,
I cringe inside,
He’s my brother.

He wilts quicker than others,
They say Ronnie’s a sissy,
Call him crazy,
Call him a girl,
They tell him how pretty he looks
With his braided curls.

I get mad,
Yell,
Lash out,
I tell them
He’s my brother,
He ain’t no sissy,
He’s not a girl.

He’s Ronnie,
He’s my brother,
He’s like no other.

They whisper behind cupped hands,
They point,
They snicker,
They grin as he walks by,
They ask their small-minded friends,
Do you see that boy?
His name is Crazy Ronnie,
He must be gay.

I want to tell them about my brother,
How when he plays the keyboard
Magic sweeps into a room,
It transports you to another land,
It fills your mind,
Your soul,
Your spirit
With beauty,
It takes you beyond this visible world,
It’s angelic.

This man who plays keyboard in the band,
The man they know as Crazy Ronnie,
Does not exist.

I see a musician who moves me deeply,
A magician,
A poet,
A seer.

The music
And the musician
Unfold before my eyes,
As I listen and watch,
I see a thing of beauty,
He is talented beyond belief,
Bestowed with a gift,
He is unique,
Courageous,

Simply put,
This is my brother whom I love,
He is like no other.

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Good Intentions

ezra-and-faithGood Intentions.

 

 

How are you?

Do I really want to know?

No.

If I did, it would mean I truly cared.
Goodbye.

More words flippantly tossed into the air.

Gone for good?

No.

I will see you soon.
I must have you round for a meal.

I am puzzled by the way your eyes glaze over.

I mean it sincerely

And yet,

I am busy.

Surely you know how it is.

There are more important matters.

Don’t be huffy or hurt.

Then you vanish

With no goodbye.
Words,

Sometimes wrapped in good intentions,

And yet,

Even if I don’t like you,

Care for you,

’tis rude to admit it.
Words . . . words . . . words,

All I hear,

Insincere words wafting in the wind.

 

 

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Goodnight, See You In The Daylight

I’ve been coming home for months.
I am so tired of the doing of it wrong.

There is the wind
and there are the trees
moving.

Which is it
we are talking about?

*

I blow hard, I lose leaves,
—the symbiotic tree tops, the storms
strumming branches, and arms
pointing everywhere—

*

I blew hard, I lost leaves,
but I am rooted in the soil of the truth
and not the hydroponics of belief.

*

What I see and what I see
of you, this will do for truth; the
temperature today, in the raindrop
or the shadow, not in what is forecast for tomorrow.

 

 

 

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boyfriend in a coma

Say it

when I don’t expect it.

Rattle my door.

 

Listen for

the padded paw across

plush sand, the muffled

smile.

 

Look for flickers,

odd numbers of molecules,

a minuscule dislodgment

of furniture;

 

a child hiding in the garden

at midnight.

I shall commune in sighs.

 

II

Given up for dead poor sod

a year today, and today

white bones upon the shore,

 

 I live

               yet.

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Cast No Doubt

Fear is only in our minds but taking over all the time, there are those who love to hate but their dart cannot pierce unless you let it.

I found the road to nowhere but I’m trying to escape, but I thought I found the road to somewhere because I know there is something there for me.

I think, I think too much, even in reality people lose touch to their own purposes, but to focus of what will lay ahead can only build a bridge to reality.

In this hysterical realm I am myself and my soul is not for sale, beat the pressure don’t play the game that they test you.

Have you ever wondered how it all happened yet you have got get up and try, I’m not afraid of what others have to say, the only way forward is to advance.

Turn it around give it all, break the back and watch them lose it all, I’ve been watching and waiting, I’ve been searching I’ve been living, I now walk alive.

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The Pull Of A Distant Heart

Each, and everyday wishing you were here,
this distance between us I cannot bear.
My heart aches and it’s no joke,
I feel like I’m drowning, and beginning to choke.

One day we will meet I know this is true,
some nights I can’t sleep,
longing the need for you.
My hands desperately reaching out,
this love we share is worth it without a doubt.

Time is of the essence,
I need you now,
this so overwhelming,
but I’ll get through it somehow.

You’re very special,
my princess can’t you see,
I desire to care for you,
and give every part of me.

Each day I wonder what you are doing,
the loneliness echoes,
and my heart is brewing.
Without you loneliness fills the air,
but to know that you are coming, I won’t despair.

I wish I could just fly across the sea,
meet you, take you out to dine,
how wonderful that would be.
One day I’ll look back, and you’ll hear me say,
as we remember the calling,
and the pulling each way.

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A Farewell

I am on the wall

in hand-painted tones.

My sister, too.

We look young,

hair patted in to place.

Mother’s work,

a dab and a lick.

They hang in the hall

beside mum’s room.

I saw her there

pale and worn.

I love you, I said.

Love you, too.

A mottled hand

raised in farewell.

I see her now,

hair in a silver splay,

a white crocheted cover

drawn to her chin;

she is everywhere:

the bone handles,

the doilies,

the sense of calm.

Even, if I look,

in my young eyes

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Haunting Visions

 

I cant fight these visions they rain holy pain, you can feel my torment that drives you insane, yet I feel the same with what will burn into flame.

You can take it all away and make me whole again, you took away my shame but left the promise of pain to call out in your name, I feel restrained as the world goes black again.

The silence is what calls me just like spiritual food, the sky was battered and bruised where many things shifted and moved. Something that took flight wanted to take a bite, but retreated from the light.

They don’t know how to listen, they are blinded by division but no one should interfere with their decision, so shake the dust of your cloaks and feet that was you mission.

The screams are loud enough to shred me, but inside all the dread can be cast aside to become free, like animals in cage and kept in the dark and cannot see.

I wait for you like the ice on the mountain side, to come together with your plan like a surging tide, to gather what remains and the good that will open their eyes wide.

All i regret this noose strung up by wrong, the quick sand has no laugh and sucks you under for so long, there is no new day or the birds to sing their song.

What was sacred is fading into nothing but sadness, can you hear the sound of madness, broken souls into nothing but badness.

What I see is the rage of the beast our makers see him as the least, he coils and twists with a hunger to prey and feast, on those who he claims his mark, relentlessly his shadow so dark.

The darkest hour will not show you mercy of its power, striking those down within the hour, will they see that things are not right, when will they wake up and fight?

He is the master of the keep, the disaster waiting and keeping you asleep, he is the master that is controlling the sheep, you need to awaken from your sleep so deep, for what you sow you shall reap.

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