Self

30 May, 2007 at 19:04 (Uncategorized)

Oh…there you are, I wonder, are you really so much alike?
Or did you simply want to be?
Another nasty little trick you thought you wouldn’t see again.
Another little trickle because you are heading backwards,
How long before some of the real similarities come out,
How long before you’re plungeing out of control again?
The warning signs are here,
The sense of self you’ve known for so long is calling out,
Are you going to listen to them again?
Pulled out one-by-one by the hair.
How long before this fairground mirror of a soul is called on?
Not long I think. Not long.
Shatter the mirror, souless is preferable to this, this crossing of boundaries,
This shadowless land,
Get back inside yourself,
Stop listening to them.
One-by-one, we’ll pull you out by the hair.
You come too close, your mirror distorts not enough,
Is it simply a fucked-up desire?
Because I’m not sure that I can bare this again.

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Pulling Out

27 May, 2007 at 22:47 (Uncategorized)

You’re pulling out what was already there,
Buried not-so deeply and dealt with,
You’re pulling her out by the roots of her hair,
And she’s coming along almost gleefully,
If you can’t see what was already here,
Then I guess you think I’ve changed.
I haven’t changed just remained the same,
All my changes were wrought for nothing,
You’re pulling out what I shut away,
What I covered up. And what I said today,
Was something I haven’t said in years,
Was something that I didn’t say,
And they, and they, and they, have been long gone,
Partially recognised, partially acknowledged,
And you’re pulling us up by the hair,
We’re all coming out from the skull,
Pulled out by the roots of our hair.
Don’t stare, it’s rude and you made us come,
When I’d put them safely away,
Dealt with as unnecessary and I was so fine,
Healthy in body and mind.
I should never have plucked up the courage
To say a single word,
The silence was safer for me.
They’ve all come out by the hair,
And now it seems you’re wielding clippers,
I wouldn’t have expected anything less.

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Balm

26 May, 2007 at 19:20 (Uncategorized)

Balm is the voice I cannot hear,
Balm is the touch that is not near,
Balm is the soul I have not abused,
Balm is the friend I have not used,
Balm is the song in the joyless land,
Balm is the drumbeat close at hand,
Balm is the moment between dawn and dusk,
Balm is the scent of longed for musk,
Balm is the choice I have not yet made,
Balm is the beauty not started to fade,
Balm is the word and balm is the book,
Balm is the idea and balm is the look.

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Slide

26 May, 2007 at 19:05 (Uncategorized)

From visibe to in and don’t get stuck along the way,
Remain aware of how you do it, from visible to in,
I see you doing it, catch you every so often on an in trip,
And I didn’t recognise the journey.
But I should.
Slide then, from vsible to in, don’t get trapped along the way,
The choices are ours the way is long, don’t get stuck in between.

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Memory

24 May, 2007 at 12:14 (Uncategorized)

I remember;
Drinking like there was no tomorrow,
I remember;
Everyone asleep and me lying on the living room floor,
I remember;
Passing from concious to unconcious in waves,
Like the sea, but on the living room floor.

I remember;
Wondering what you were doing up there,
I remember;
Wondering when my dress had come off,
I remember;
The waves of darkness pulsing like the sea,
On again, off again, on the living room floor.

I remember;
The pain was only physical.
At first.

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Invitation

23 May, 2007 at 15:26 (Uncategorized)

Did I invite you inside?
I maintained for so long, that you,
Were too drunk to know that I was too.
Should I use the ‘r’ word?
You were sober enough to be erect,
No problems there.
You were drunk enough not to notice,
My passing in and out,
Did it help or hinder when you took my dress off?
And when you boasted of it the morning after,
Did you wonder if you should use the ‘r’ word?

Did I invite you inside?
It was just my knickers after all,
No need to worry then, as an invitation into my self,
Was never issued,
Knickers, self, mind; separation just assumed.
You pulled out as soon as you were done,
I should be grateful,
Because what stays inside gains power,
Whereas the continuous flow, inside to out,
Out to in again, is just a gentle build up of energy,
Easily dissapated,

Did I invite you inside?
To talk to me, to push yourself within me,
To try to know what I keep to myself,
Should I use the ‘r’ word?
I’ll clean my blood from my thighs myself,
Take your hands off me,
I never asked for your help,
It isn’t wanted.
I pulled my dress on myself,
Take your hands away,
I didn’t invite you inside.

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Faery Numbers

20 May, 2007 at 13:29 (Uncategorized)

How we turn and how we try and is there any difference now?
No difference in the numbers and I see you from this side of the kaleidoscope now,
How we turn and how we try and is it only I who is trying to be good?
Oh how you don’t seem to think of it,
The numbers stretch out to infinity, and I, on my limb,
Could not be comfortable anywhere else,
Stretched out below the stars and life and death and faery are laid out for us,
If we will only choose, will you choose?
But you twist and you turn and the kaleidoscopes broken,
Theres no difference in the numbers now,
And how I like to see you move, until it reminds me of a butterfly,
Trapped and dying on a pin, more pins, more pain,
Find a way to say it, find a way to count it,
Do not look to the sky goddess for this is all too close,
And we will lay together beneath the stars and count them everyone,
All my numbers are done.
Do you think to read me? I say that you cannot, for you are as on a limb as I,
And less comfortable it would seem for all your talk of One,
One is None and we are divisionless, the kaleidoscope is very pretty,
But don’t get caught in it’s pictures or we’ll hear you screaming and never be able to do a thing.
We are all exactly who we always were, don’t get caught in the pictures,
Get caught beneath the stars muttering infinity into the loops.
One and Eleven, no more numbers then,
Love me beneath the stars and we’ll touch infinity that way if you’d rather,
But no, the kaleidoscope distracts you,
I shall do my own loving and wait until you realise that the limbs all touch in this tree,
And in waiting, do I give myself up?
For I am no goddess here for your pleasure,
Rather I am your whore, here for my own.
No more numbers, just the ends of the worlds we created in the kaleidoscope,
Beauty is in the eye of the beholder and I behold such beauties,
Ready to distract and lend themselves to the perfect task.
How we turn and how we try and there is no difference now,
Life and death and faery laid out for us to choose,
Find a way to say it, come with me to the fields,
We should count the stars.

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19 May, 2007 at 13:07 (Uncategorized)

“But you promised you’d wait.”

Lindsey rolled her eyes and hung onto the doorframe wishing that the trip was properly over so she could really deal with this.
“That was ten years ago, I waited and you left. Ergo I stopped waiting.”

She watched the clouds roil overhead and tasted them with her tongue.

“But you stopped waiting.”

“You gave up first, I just realised you’d absolved me from my promise.”

It seemed like the sky was bubbling underneath the clouds, like they were just passing over the molten surface of the sky.

“Absolution? I never gave you absolution. You promised to wait and you didn’t.”

She continued to hang onto the door. “Look, what are you going to do about it? It was over a long time ago, move on or something.”

She wished that the molten sky would stop rolling down the tops of the buildings as it was distracting her from what she was trying to say.

“You’re tainted.” he said and the sky covered him in it’s dripping, heavy heat.

She went back inside and tried to work out if she should do something about the remains.

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18 May, 2007 at 23:24 (Uncategorized)

Oh pass me another cup,
Oh pass me another bed,
Go on go on she said,
And the washed up slapper blamed the blue eyes of a man she’d never met.
Pass her another cup,
Put a coin into the slot,
Drink me into bed, she said.

So pass me another story,
So pass me another world,
Go on, hurry up, she said,
And the whore pictured the eyes that had never looked at her as she leant against the wall.
Pass her another story,
Put a coin in her purse,
You’re taking your time, she said.

And me? I passed her by,
Never quite managed to meet her eyes,
Keep on walking, she said,
I keep on sleeping, dreaming of my faeryland gold whilst she wakes up every morning.
Pass her my open eyes,
I’ll take another lover,
Leave quickly in the morning, she said.

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Choosing a Kimono

15 May, 2007 at 18:12 (Uncategorized)

Spread the silks before you,
muse,
Run your fingers between your lips,
choose then as your eyes flow,
the colours before you,
open, wet silks,
a kimono drips,
newly dyed,
a little death to colour,
all the reds of the kimono,
flushed,
blushing as your fingers press,
muse again.
Bite your lip,
take a breath,
consider the silks and stretch them beneath your fingers,
press against your skin,
see how it would feel,
aren’t the colours real?
Spread the silks in the sun,
muse,
tap your fingers,
gently, decide then,
where the silks would look best,
as they drip.

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