30 October, 2007 at 17:52 (Uncategorized)

Hnaging on by a fingernail,
to something too deeply felt,
and there is something I must say,
out here on the edge,
suddenly locked out and far away,
rediscover your solitude,
rediscover your self,
there is nothing anyone can say,
before is only now.

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Burn Then

30 October, 2007 at 13:40 (Uncategorized)

Tuned up to the completest notch,
Tuned up and waiting,
Where is that shadow then?
Tuned up and waiting,
for a moment to take,
and if it’s all over now then it’s all over now,
It is all over then?
I’m so tuned up and waiting,
for that moment,
waiting for it all to come
crashing down,
a little magic’s all that’s needed,
and I’m tuned up and waiting,
for a time that’ll never come,
the notch is made and I’m tied together to this belt,
bleeding and waiting,
tuned completely,
waiting to burn.

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Following Fae

29 October, 2007 at 23:56 (Uncategorized)

I have seen her disappear,
Fae into the night,
as she ran along the canal path.
Vanishing into the dark,
even as I kept her in sight
following a world behind.
I have watched;
nameless, wordless, thoughtless,
as she ran on shoes of gold,
her hair streaming against night’s fingers,
the white dress
caressed by the breeze, as she was.
Saw her turn and beckon me on,
even as I stumbled that world behind,
she reached and braced me with an arm,
suddenly strong, solid, sure,
and then, turned on a golden heel,
and I was a world away again,
watch a heron keep pace with my train.
That bird, peaceful in flight,
as I stumbled, tripped and did not see,
her simply disappear,
as I kept her in my sight,
following too eagerly with my eyes.

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27 October, 2007 at 14:17 (Uncategorized)

A single instant in which the world is changed,
It is remade and broken all at once,
Nothing now is made, nothing now is stolen.
Did you think it stopped right here?
Hardly though I told you,
the path is taken, the choice is made,
The sons reforge a hammer,
the sword is taken upon the hill,
the grove is made now holy,
and all we’ve done and all we’ve saved,
is forgotten under motley.

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27 October, 2007 at 13:50 (Uncategorized)

Whatever else I was, I was a Queen. I look and watch now, and hear how others tell my story and I am dismissed, at first for a whore and at last for a fool. But whatever else I was, I was a Queen. Arthur married me without me, this once and future man would have been as nothing. I’m dismissed now by women, I suppose after a feminist century that this is what hurts the most. A feminist century and after being dismissed by men over the years for being nothing but a fly-by-night woman I would have thought that this century I would be revered. But I am not. And why not? Because this century glories evil. I am forsaken by women for the memory of that bitch, that witch, that incestuous whore. Oh yes, my wrongs, held up by the church for so many years cannot be overcome, but hers, far greater than mine, can be and are at every possible opportunity. I was a Queen and she a whorish puppet and it is me you gloss over, you supposed feminists, fanatics and historians.

I was the land when Arthur married me and he took me out there on the hills amongst the sheep and he took me out on the flats amidst the corn. We were the land together. I was his by right and he was mine. The land must have a king and the king must have a land. I was his Queen. I was the Queen of the land.

People claim he neglected me. People seduced by notions that royalty is just like ordinary life. These notions are not so. I must expect my husband to be away for months at a time, for him to be campaigning, to save the land from the invaders, to secure our people. I must expect simple things like his bed to be warmed by others. It is only strange christian priests who tell me that I must not act likewise.

A Queen wants as much as a king, if not more so. A queen gives more than a king for she gives to the land her love and to her love her bed. And I longed for the heather as well as the sheep and the corn though these things were what he deemed important, so he said. He took his sister to his bed. His sister to his caves, in the dark places of the land he took her, in the dark and awkward places and I hated him for it. Was I not Queen? Was I not the sole provider of this land, he had taken me and married me and I was his as certainly as I was the land, not she, the dark and awkward inhabitant of the low and dripping places.

A Queen needs a champion, a knight to take for her own, to take into the hills and heathers. For what use the land without energy? What use the Queen left behind for nothing, only so that he can replace her with a whore? A whore who is lifted up to the heavens and presented as a star. I was Queen and I died for my lands, my plans and beliefs held true and I burned at that stake for this land and you. The King was taken away from the land for I am it’s protectoress, she could not hope to compete. I held fast and I died and I will die again for the hills and the heathers, she can keep her dark places and he his fields. Queen I am still of the hills and the heathers.

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27 October, 2007 at 12:57 (Uncategorized)

Everything done that I wanted to be done,
Everything said that I wanted to be said,
Whats this life that tapping at my side?
Whats this time thats tapping at my head?
It’s as if we’re all marked out,
It’s as if she’s coming soon,
It’s as if I can’t take back,
Anything I’ve done,
The feelings coming over me,
That everything I want to see,
Is done and this is starting something else,
I am covered in the gold and wealth that a thousand spiders bring,
So bring on the dreams,
Spill over these seams,
Let life begin again.
Whats this tapping at my side?
Whats this tapping at my head?
Everything I wanted done,
Everything I wanted said.

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27 October, 2007 at 01:36 (Uncategorized)

Seize the moment,
Trip and tell,
Exactly who you kissed,
and when.
Each moment is a golden one,
so take the diamonds then,
Now call out a name,
and fall perhaps,
see if someone comes,
maybe they will,
and maybe they won’t,
either way it’s fine.
Each moment is a golden one,
just like summer’s smile.

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26 October, 2007 at 17:57 (Uncategorized)

All the pieces come together,
he is creeping round the house,
everything thats wrong seems right.
We’re going soon,
I’m coming formless and then tripping,
over stairs I should have seen.
It’s all in the preparation.
It’s all in the selfless flagellation,
of a million bodies.
The women of the lake agree,
the spirits of the stream,
the gold has gone.
All the pieces flow together,
all of everything at once and I must,
finger-motion my way through every piece,
and I must touch or else I cannot feel,
and I must touch; eyes to eyes,
focus then and go.
Focus then and both of us drop.
How far down can you go?
All the pieces come together,
and I am spread there on the ground,
I know where I will go,
alone and unprotected,
to stand beneath your tree.
It’s all in the preparation,
I don’t know why they’re looking this way,
I know where everyone is,
know where I am myself,
and I know what I can give.
It’s important to stick with truth,
it’s important to know when you’ve got to jump,
behind a glass thrown from a roof.
I must touch, or I cannot feel;
a fault of mine I know,
but I have found over this last year,
that eyes touch more than lips and I can feel your hands on me.
Focus then, open your eyes,
focus on mine,
follow me down,
and let us both find what lies beneath that tree,
come and step over that smallest stream with me.

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Neon Sign

26 October, 2007 at 17:13 (Uncategorized)

Neon signs are over-rated and theres a cliff to climb,
I haven’t hit bottom yet,
And I think I’m going to have to ask you to sign for this,
Just a second, wait a moment,
I really do need a signature.

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24 October, 2007 at 19:50 (Uncategorized)

Theres a storm on the way,
And where are you headed?
Theres a storm on the way
Or so he said,
The traveller in the hat who just passed on by,
The man with a staff and his gaze on the sky,
Theres a storm on the way,
And where are you facing?
Theres a storm on the way,
Feel the cats pacing in the ceiling,
On the joists just below the roof,
One of them will climb,
And we will all see the truth,
Theres a storm on the way,
Careful not to get wet,
Your fur is so soft and your paws won’t thank me,
When the storm hits,
Watch for the lightning,
When the storm hits,
Get the cats down,
The stranger is passing looking at the sky,
And we’re all cats massing,
Wondering why the electricity sparks at our fur.

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