Writer’s Block: Little Women

29 November, 2008 at 19:07 (Uncategorized) (, , )

Jo, always, I hated Amy, that little niminy piminy chit. I hated that she got Laurie as well, even if Jo had decided she didn’t actually like him in that way.

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Never Present

29 November, 2008 at 18:52 (Uncategorized)

Looking forwards at the beginning,
and backwards at the end,
all you tried to ask,
was for me to face you,
but still I ran headlong,
into the storm I knew was coming,
and could not hold back from knowing,
where we all were going,
there is no pleasure in that.
So when the world ended,
as it must, every now and then,
I was in her bed,
listening to every word she said.
Looking sideways on life,
as if I’d already written out the book,
all you tried to ask,
was for me to look at you,
but still I’m running on,
and that storms not finished yet,
and I can’t hold back from speaking,
though you wish I would,
there is no pleasure in this.
So when the world ended,
as it must, every now and then,
I was alone in the dark,
and you were where you were supposed to be.
Looking in on a life I’m living,
never present when I’m supposed to be,
all you tried to ask,
was that I meet your gaze,
but we’d already passed,
that point in our story,
and the storm’s to come,
I’ll be standing on the sides,
though I’ll wish I wouldn’t,
there is no pleasure in that.
So when the world is ending,
as it must, every now and then,
I’ll meet your eyes,
as you asked, as I asked,
we know where we’ll be:
in misty streets, for one fleeting moment.

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29 November, 2008 at 18:45 (Uncategorized)

You make me sing,
Like no one before I met you and none since,
No, not even she walking with starlight in her hair,
You make me sing.
I walked without the starlight,
I walked without the song,
It felt so familiar for so long,
I hardly noticed that,
when I closed my mouth
I had to close my eyes to you,
and I am trapped within a glass,
I gave away my secrets,
and they knew where my heart was hidden.
Defenceless I lost the song,
but now,
I begin to sing again,
and,
I know where this is going,
but,
you still make me sing.

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29 November, 2008 at 15:02 (Uncategorized)

Eye to eye, the eyes move on,
That wordless voice so shared
speaking in the air,
and the light glistening
between her eyes and yours.
It is you,
your soul
hanging there in the air.
Endless extension into golden ether
Eyes once able to navigate that space
are blank and speechless
now eye to eye
I see your speech
The air is navigable and clear,
I sail unseen.

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Mouth Closed

29 November, 2008 at 14:59 (Uncategorized)

For a long time now I have been silent,
Oh and forcibly so
Too long, silent for fear of hurting
Those already hurt,
And yet, something unknown
has restored an equilibrium I feared was lost.
No, not lost,
just pushed underground for too long a time,
Now resurfaced
a little too late.

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24 November, 2008 at 23:02 (Uncategorized)

One heap, one pitch, one toss,
and until you’ve really won you’ll never know what it is you’ve lost,
and I won, I won so big, you never get over that horse coming in,
sixty to one at least,
but as with everything like the puppet’s say it’s only for now,
One heap, one pitch, one toss,
and I’ll know and I’ll will and I’ll dare,
but I must never breathe a word about my loss,
and to keep silent is the hardest lesson of all to learn,
when is it silence and when is it repression?
One heap, one pitch, one toss,
One daring, daring leap of faith that’s lost to fortune,
And gone again, but how I won,
I won so big, I’ll never win that big again,
that horse has gone no matter how much form I know,
I’ll never back that horse again.
And so, one heap, one pitch, one toss,
and begin again without the heap.
I won so big…
I can’t believe I won so big…
it never lasted but, I won so big…
and that’s why I can’t help myself,
back out to the touts again,
that sort of win, you never lose.

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23 November, 2008 at 23:41 (Uncategorized)

Who am I? Pink? Starting off with some perfect family portrait,
talking about the light in the pictures…
That’s what you get on TV real life is
beautiful carpets and wallpaper that changed every month,
and a parquet floor or stone.
These are the things that indicate home.
A little golden glowing light and a woman who says
‘I’m proud of you.’
And it wasn’t my Mum who said that, it was you,
and everytime I’d never noticed until that night
when something in my gut twisted with ‘not right’.
What is this? You want to play me backwards,
for Satanic words and child abuse?
I went to Sunday School every week and I knew why,
Learnt to play the piano too…
and I know I’m home when I am practising and he comes in
with a gentle kiss, of home and passes on by.
There was nothing wrong, with my family portrait,
no dreadful things for you to know.
Just keeping on keeping on and making this garden grow.
This is where the portrait child begins isn’t it?
In the portrait it doesn’t take sixteen years
before some four letter word sounds fake on the lips of your mother,
they just say that on TV, not really, you know.
It’s sung about and written about but it’s not really real,
that light, that warmth, that’s just for picture postcards,
an artistic licence.
Some idealised little portrait of perfection,
that warm feeling of complete, twenty six years late.
And that little picture portrait tossed in the fire before Valentines Day,
I’m stumbling away like a child,
Because it might be thinner than blood,
but water is the one that feels good.

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23 November, 2008 at 18:06 (Uncategorized)

Clinging to the tatters of the tatters,
and the scarecrows gave away these cloaks.
I am alone in this clinging,
in this field where all the mud is frozen,
and as long as I push and push away,
all the crows and ravens will not stay,
there is no one, unless they really mean it.
And even then I’m not sure I believe it,
because I’m clinging to the memory of the tatters of the tatters,
and I’ve wrapped so long in them,
that the blueness in my fingers hardly matters,
there are no dreams for all dreams come to this,
and I am drowning in frozen mud,
there is only what there is.

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Written A Couple Of Months Ago

22 November, 2008 at 16:08 (Uncategorized)

An unexplained wind that I think I recognise;
the direction that it’s blowing and the way the wave is showing,
Makes me think that I know,
But I don’t.
Around every sight of land
A question is unasked
Because I never spoke it.
You think,
That I fall into patterns,
Unasked,
Unsaid,
And I am unmissed in my bed,
Because I know,
That the lands are mine.
It’s showing as the bar is calling time,
And I know,
And I know,
What I have ever asked to know and you
Have shown me all my newest toys,
And you have shown me all my newest joys,
Because I let you.
But it is I who am up the mast,
And it is I who am travelling fast,
And I’m going,
I’ve wasted my year, on everything I didn’t know,
On going home, where there is no home.
And I am clinging to the coral that she gave me,
And I am ripped up on the reef,
And I am smiling,
Toothless, and bloody, and salt-torn,
And I am smiling.
Oh how I am smiling,
how I have been worn,
and shredded and how I am in flight,
But the wings are not mine,
And the wings are not mine,
And the gulls they are wheeling and the sun it is setting,
And the wings in the sky,
How I watch them in flight,
‘Make it to the lands beyond the sun,
Fly there, soar there, wheel there,
But do so tonight’,
Set a date and cut the rotten flesh out,
Pick it out,
Cut it out for gull meat and watch them die,
Drop out of the sky like three thousand pigeons,
Let your flesh fall,
It is useless.
Take flight,
Soar over the ship as I swim beyond the lands,
For I am banned,
When it comes to the gold of the never-sun,
And I am banned by my own word,
By She who demands unknown and selfless loyalty without thought,
Always I must think and though I may be taught,
I am for this world,
Always reborn into this,
Forever and forever in the cycle.
In the world and in the sea, I swim,
Whilst I know you fly far beyond,
And I am smiling
Toothless and bloody and torn and so worn out by this life as the ship continues on.
And the ship doesn’t stop and nor do I,
Because how can I stop when this life never stops,
And I signed onto the wheel for all time,
And you fade, and she fades and the wings take you there,
Where I cannot follow for all that I swim.
The ship it may sink or it may sail,
But I know that I cannot stop,
I am signed on for Forever after all,
Where the once born,
and those who sell themselves like gull meat to be once born only,
May die.
Those who take flight leave behind without so much as a backwards glance,
Without so much as a by your leave,
And yet,
I take the chance,
You might look back,
Meet my eyes at the end of the world,
And I am born again in this cycle,
It is my only end.
So, look back,
When the world is at an end,
See my ship as the sails sink beneath,
The lonely ocean.

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Forest and Moor

22 November, 2008 at 16:08 (Uncategorized)

You think I never dreamt of the forest?
Because if you do you are sorely mistaken,
I dreamed.
I can dream even if I know it is only a dream.
I will stick to my moorland,
Be up on the high moors next time it rains
and give my soul to the wet.

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