HAUNTED

Stop singing your song.
My words in your voice.
My heart in your hands.

Stop walking away.
Your fingertips on fire.
Your tongue in my mouth.

Who gave you the right
To break my heart.
And still smile.

3
damn
years.

When will you stop haunting me?

OATHS

Maya Angelou
and
India Arie
talk of
life
Love
and
promises.

Promises are stone-set
Loyalty
Promises are made to be kept.

Every pledge
I've made to myself
so far
this year
I've broken.

I promised myself I'd work real hard.
I promised myself I'd sleep more
smile more
Love more.

I promised myself
I'd force myself
I'd break myself
I'd do my damned hardest
to forget you.

And for so long
my heart felt safe.

I'm in love with him.
Don't tear that away from me.
I made a promise to be true.

HEART PERMITTING

I'm so scared.

I just realised.

I'm so
so
scared.

You're going to fall in love.
You're going to spin
electrocute
excite.

You're going to take all trace
of hope I have left
and throw it to the ground.

And stamp on it.

Why do I GIVE A SHIT?

NO OTHER CHOICE

My cloth is the same as the hills,
the trees outside
my flesh bares every scar
every thought of you
shows up in ripples
every smile
flips my heart
on a fish skillet.

In all this peace
I do not touch serenity:
it leaves me alone and goes around me
Like I'm
wearing a big sign:
"angry here".

this teenage crap
is getting old.

I need a beach
Cool trickling water round my toes
Your hand in mine
(or in my back pocket)
and that sweet smile you do
when you're embarrassed
and rolling your eyes.

Maybe sleep will grant me some escape tonight.
And just maybe,
Just maybe
I'll have to leave here
No matter what.

I don't think I have a choice.

BLENHEIM
In memory of Marjorie Gray.

Here
Is where she wanted to be
her final days of sun
by the river.
is the river part of her?
Peaceful, yet
sparkling.
Calm and flowing
neverending
spirit.

May you always be here.

COMMUNICATE

Why did you let me sleep?

A golden slumber
For so long.
When all I've been
fighting for
is to be
awake.

I miss you.
Don't just call me
when you need me.
Show you care.

Somehow.

"come out of your cage
and look to the stars.."

I don't need you
I wouldn't want you
But I miss you so.

POSTHUMOUS WORK

I know
This is hard to understand
but as I wept and bled
pain running down like rivers,
he carried me through.

You are concrete cold
I can't break you down
I won't
But I will chip away
at the stone tomb
you've encased us in.

Hard to believe
I once favoured death.
I died
              And lived to tell the tale.

LOST PLANET

I wish I'd never heard of
Cancer
Disease
Famine
Terrorism
Hate
Judgement
War (terrorism)
Murder
Violence
Fear
And that evil, evil sin.

And sometimes,
...you.

I feel dirty again.
How many showers
Before I am clean?

CO-LOSS-ALL

it's collosal
this lack of understanding
of the
experience.

It can be         joked about
        cried out about
        sung comically (and mockingly) about
        fabricated for revenge

        it can be talked about on the news
reported
     distorted
written down as clinically
              as a shopping list.

it is shouted
     whispered
   cried
         signed
expressed in email.

Some of us
who survived
found it worse
than death.

it will affect every relationship
     where we go
     what we listen to
     how we react
     our personality
     our mental
     physical
     emotional
and sexual
     health.

It is often
    4 letters.
something
that causes us to fight OURSELVES for our existence.

help us stop it.
it needs to stop.

we need to heal.

VIRGINIA

will you become
like Virginia Woolf?
A stone in your pocket
Waiting to drown

Are you dismayed
At your broken house?
Living in silence
Waiting to bleed

Want all the answers?
I have them right here
Meet me

under the biggest tree in the park

I'll whisper in your ear
Blindfold your eyes
And lead your hands
To the small buried tomb
In the ground

Don't run too far
Just past the tulips
Red with blood
Cold with frost

Will you become
Like Virginia Woolf?

Will I make it to the river in time?

ALL THE HOURS

Laura
Virginia
and
Clarissa.

Counting
down
The
Hours.

Death
and life
interweave
like patchwork
stories
On a quilt of sickness
suicide
aids
and hope.

He falls.

"I don't think two people could have
been happier than we've been."

RICHARD

Will this event
tumble into my own order?
A housewife
on the brink of depression
trying so hard
to be happy
for her little son.

How could she know
the course of time
the pathways
and loves
leading up
to the end of him.

She read his book.
She knew of Clarissa.
And that corner
kiss.

Did she realise
that back then
in the 40s
in the kitchen
making cake
and icing
in his fragility
that the lack of love
she felt
but tried to show
has nothing to do with
the fact
that 50 years later
he took the
jump

Dying to
escape
his
death?

would you
if you knew
feel any remorse

for the bitch you’ve made out of me?

TOSS AND ROLL

if I had a dollar
for every time
I've felt like this
I would buy a house
and paint
with my clumsy strokes
those faces
on my walls.

Your laugh
your confusion
your pain
embarrassment
and total glee
those
expressions
are forever captured and
imprinted in my mind
especially
when
attempting sleep.

Isn't the first rule
of gossiping
not to look at the
person you’re talking about?

GET OVER IT

your body
is riddled with this
like the car
of bonnie and clyde
sprayed with bullets.

just let go.
It's eating you up.

When did you learn
to hate with such passion?
I am long over this.

Your life
love
and affairs
(in all senses of the word)
are no longer
a concern to me.

and almost,
almost...
it's like you’re dead to me.
(gone)

and I will no longer wear black.