¶ freshly painted walls ⎟ PEA

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There is a feeling that catches breaths,
Each one brings us close to death,
These moments when you feel you could
Be the person you know you should.

It haunts your dreams, your nights, your days,
It is the thing you know everyone says,
In song, in rhyme, in two-beat time,
It coats your soul like heavy slime.

You look through yourself to see what’s seen,
And wonder how else life could have been,
If only, when you were ever so little,
You wouldn’t have been quite so brittle,

To feel the pain that made you feel
As though your worth was unreal,
You clung to words that made you fly,
But how long until you feel them lie?

Because words twist, and they distort,
From you, your life, they will extort,
Minute by minute, pound by pound,
They will catch your breath until you’re drowned,

Ne’er be fooled by idle chatter,
For you’ll not find the words that flatter
All the people in all the world;
Such dizzy thoughts will have you whirled,

Learn to be the dreams you’ve dreamt,
Tell the stories that you invent,
Let words escape, as you enthral;
Paint the floors and paint the walls.

For freedom spent, is freedom kept,
And all of life should feel windswept,
Dwell not where the soul is lost,
For it is cold and iced with frost,

In Charon’s boat, it bids farewell,
Ere again Orpheus will fail,
Sing in notes that please the gods,
And you might win, against the odds.

Catch those breaths once stunted, yet;
Hold them long in a butterfly net,
Youth wishes to last forever,
It spends its pennies howsoever,

Flitter-flutter–heart does beats,
It’s time that love really cheats,
Drink the tides of setting suns,
Sweet libations of what’s been done.

–fin

 

Links: http://poets.ca/2016/02/08/national-poetry-month-2016/


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¶ as i shouldered your heart ⎟ PEA

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I was walking down the path,
as I shouldered your
crumbling heart.
You pushed against me
about to fly like loose leaves
along the wind.

The slow tortoise winked,
the moose battered his antlers,
the crows screeched in warning,
their fear drawing us nearer
into clearer darkness of the
faded day.

We stop to settle and sup,
as the sun’s last rays tickled
the tops of leafless trees.
A small fire to keep us warm,
I hold your heart in my hand.

You run with the fire of life
and of joy.
I pick up the pieces,
humbly loving your spirit.
You fly in the wind,
threatening to leave,
but your warmth and goodness
keeps you here with me.

Such a big heart determined to race,
round corners,
round bends,
and back from the moon.
“It’s such a big, big world,”
I whisper in your ear,
“The world’s not ready
for you to disappear, yet.”

On we must trot or night will
gobble us all–
Once again,
I shoulder your heart,
Your soul is nestled,
And my heart is full.
But what about days,
when I’m left all alone, dear?
I want you to stay,
to be here with me forever.

The tortoise has slowed to
walk us to safety,
The bucking moose has lent us
his powerful antlers,
The crows scream in murders
to frighten the night.

I hold you in my arms
as tears slip away,
We walk into the warmth
of the hearth and the home,
We drink teas and snack on
honeyed-peanut butter;
Raspberries for tortoise,
Grass for dear moose,
Charms for the crows,
who resent the implication.

Let’s slip into the darkness,
the safe one with dreams,
where it is okay that less
is more than it seems.

 

–fin

Links: http://poets.ca/2016/02/08/national-poetry-month-2016/


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¶ Sweetest Spring and Evergreens ⎟ PEA

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There is a gentle breeze
That ruffles dreams;
It smells of sweetest spring
and evergreens.
It never wavers but
Kisses cherubic, weightless clouds,
and stimulates subtle
memory.

Hold your hand up to its path,
Feel your spindly fingers dance,
Light as thoughts,
Free as love,
Comfort, and mindful serenity.
Smell its past and lingering tales
as you fully breathe
your mortality.

Sun streams through lashes
and closing eyes,
Whilst laughter churns from
deep within.
Light as air and happy child,
Who’d have thought,
it was just air?

The earth sighs in meditative
suspiration, as we move around
the galaxy.
The stars are past,
as we are passed,
and dust settles over youth
quite fast.

In times of old, and times
to come, the breeze sets sail
as souls swim by,
Raise your hand
up to their path,
They make your fingers dance
as they sing
‘Good Day’!

Relax into grass, that
folds beneath you.
Listen as it crumples.
Millions of tiny springs,
that support your body
and usher in new life.
Breathe in the breeze
that tariffs dulcet tones,
and passes them onto
abject pilgrims.

There was a day,
when you were sad,
but honeyed hues coloured
your hearing eyes;
Recall the dreams
Of weightless flight, and
dream sweet dreams,
my dear, tonight.

–fin

Links: http://poets.ca/2016/02/08/national-poetry-month-2016/


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wordplay xx

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In Time, You’ll Be⎟ PEA

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Sometimes, there is lack,
A lack that likes to remind you it’s there,
It wants to be acknowledged, nurtured, and loved.
But sometimes you want to ignore
the lack.
Getting over it has a knack,
It’s a skill I lack.

Sometimes, there is a wound,
Salt and dirt live there,
They dance to the beat of my heart,
As it works
furiously to heal.
But on, they dance.

Often, there is a hush,
It comes in slowly,
It never leaves in a rush.
You may have time to fill your lungs,
Or scream out your anger
So loud your voice cracks.

Often, there is a dream,
Frequently ignored;
to be suppressed by the lack,
that makes its home
crushing your heart.

Some days, there is an itch,
When you scratch,
you bruise skin,
The outer shell cracks,
And leaves you grim.
Plaster yourself back together,
Make yourself whole again.

Some days, there is a tiredness,
It hides under darkened eyes,
It announces itself with a depressed
lions roar.
You fuel yourself with coffees,
Snack on cakes, and sweet  teas,
Sometimes, those are the best days.

One day, there might be a sun beam,
That shines on your heart,
It sends growth throughout your soul,
It lightens your load,
It fills your lack,
So it feels more like
a history
that’s past.

One day, there will be lines,
That mark your path,
Engraved upon your thin
skin.
Lines, counted, reveal your
capacity to love
and the rich stories,
that you sink into as you fall
asleep.

–fin

Links: http://poets.ca/2016/02/08/national-poetry-month-2016/

 


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Secret Garden

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In seeded gardens, where rise the rose,
One rests to ponder the posy’s pose,
For enchanted petals do sing our praise,
Sent from the cosmos on sunshine’s rays,

Sipping poisons from beguiling fairies,
Sweetest wine, decorated with berries,
Grass folds around us as we sit to eat,
Butterfly wings echo syncopated heartbeats,

Fingers entwine as sun kisses lashes,
Fiery spirits cremate our form to ashes,
Spritely water nymphs send mist our way,
Singing to us about the games they play,

From petals, sweet nectar drops like dew,
I’d happily spend eternity here with you,
Golden droplets trickle and delight,
Rumpled clothing await God’s smite,

Dreams are made of finer things than these,
Aphrodite’s raiments drifting in a summer’s breeze,
Cupid’s bow did pierce our steadfast hearts,
Love’s sweet arrow obliging love’s sweet arts,

Visions entwine as lust sets chimeric love afire,
Embraced as we sigh; our last breaths expire,
Sweet lips such as these, golden and honeyed,
Enchanted, we sip sweet petal’s hallowed mead,
Incense burns, smoke of heightened scents,
We journey as one, up towards ascent,
Where, in seeded gardens, rise the rose,
One rests to ponder the posy’s pose.

-fin
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A Vengeful Tangle of Thread

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The page sat empty; full of its property to be,
An equation appeared, solve it to be free,
Discuss. Solve. Explain. Understand. Know.
For full marks, all your work you must show,

A pencil scribbles symbols, meanings, and truths,
An alphabet of day-dreams abandoned in youth,
Cognisance amongst those who comprehend,
The simple, diligent task of making amends.

As memory eats our heart-ridden sleeves,
One paces, lusting for a last-minute reprieve,
Words unsung, songs unsaid–a silence to hear,
Rethink our days, nights, dreams–tremble with fear,

Is it God’s revelations that we search for in skies?
For I’ve seen God’s truth in the glint of your eyes–
Of death and of life, I sigh and moan their beauty,
Caged together, wrought by love and by duty,

Slumber’s cold breath rattles my spine,
Restless thoughts abate as we entwine,
Like swimming deep in an endless sea,
At first we fear our path to timeless serenity.

When words become chess pieces across a board,
Prudently spent, a censored life is flat and unexplored,
Shades protect our eyes from too much light,
Withal, be wary, lest ye forget sight,

Look at the page with the equation on it,
Not one step in its solving do you omit,
Logic and training bring forth its solution,
Annihilating binary affinity in favour of one,

The formula untangles anatomy,
You become You and I become me,
The result conceals, rather than illuminates,
A vengeful tangle of thread littered by the Fates.

–fin
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All Around

beatrix
Sun, sun all around.
Swallowing sand,
Mouth drenched with thirst.
A chill in my heart,
Bones shattered,
Flesh defrosted.

Space, space all around.
So small in size,
I can’t see that far,
anyway.
Confined in vast infinity,
Doors break down.

Dreams, dreams all around.
Broken hearts.
Lost souls.
Charon’s fee usurped,
The earth is for the lost,
Have we been found–
out?

Love, love all around.
Never inside.
Never between.
Never here.
Only in dreams.

fin.
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Bright Young Thing

shalott6

Bright young thing with tired feet,
Bright young thing with tired mind,
Rest your feet and suckle sweet
Dreams aligned for you to find–
Truth and beauty singing soft praise,
At youth’s fountain imbibed with agéd wine,
Bacchus in a blaze, whilst his gifts laze,
Freshly picked vines, erasure of time’s line,
Strings pluck’d by unceasing hands,
Perfum’d air, intoxicatingly rich,
Cascading sands to fill many lands,
Placed in glasses which awe and bewitch.
Time expands and collapses, sleepy child,
Old wounds ache and new wounds smite,
In one age we are wild, another, notoriously mild,
Offerings to god as contrite, surrendering souls to delight,
Bright young thing with many tears,
Bright young thing with many masks,
Let not your fears rewrite your years,
Dread not the ask; it belabours the task,
Promise me, sweetly dreaming soul,
That when god asks you who and how,
You’ll point to mine heart’s toll and cupid’s bow,
Relax your furrowed brow, we were nothing ’til now,
One last sip, suck’d dry from eden’s dew-dropped rose,
Glimpse the sun’s triumphant ascension of shared prayer,
Drink in the lover’s throes, eased by soft-kiss’d snow,
Devoted desire this rare suspends daydreams in the air.
Awaken babe, to muted chirruping birds,
Banished, heavenly visions dissipate ere long,
Bright young thing with oft lost words,
Bright young thing intoxicated by love’s song.

–fin
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Golden Traces

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It was a dark, cloudless night,
Stars twinkled and shone bright,
He held her hand in his,
Together, making a fist,

Her other hand upon his shoulder,
His upon her waist, they moved closer,
Moving as one, millimetre at a time,
The music softly sounded rhyme by rhyme,

For dancing was when their souls met,
At communion, their bodies silhouette,
Eyes wide, souls bared,
Eyes shut, a love shared,

One step left, now right, two in time,
The music crescendos and climbs,
Hearts picking paces, winning races,
Love lining lives with golden traces,

Gods sang on sacred ground,
From within their bodies the song resounds,
Ambrosia drips from cups to lips,
Swaying to her hallowed hips,

This dance is timeless infinite,
Like consecrated stones of holy writ,
Laws have no meaning here,
This love contains no fear,

Her hands seemingly clutch his heart,
Piercing his chest, an arrowed dart,
His hands wrap around her ghost,
Forever caressing her earthly host.

Like sun flutters between eyelashes,
Their love incited celestial flashes,
Throwing their heads back in ecstasy,
Granted mutually-assured soulful clemency.

-fin
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Peaches, Poetry, and Love

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So, I love poetry. I love it because it can be extremely revealing but very concealing. Unless someone can untangle it properly, it becomes its own web of meaning for them. That is what is so beautifully peculiar about it. I was so tempted to write this post as a poem because it’s much easier to hide oneself in a flourish of rhymes, carefully plotted words, and conspicuously blotted truths. It’s just so much easier to wrap up what we feel, rather than outline it like the perfect course syllabus. This will happen then; you will have all read these texts; we will discuss. I feel like I’m fighting myself right now. I just want to break into rhyming couplets.

I heard once that truthfulness in corporations is always very shocking for consumers. We expect to be lied to. If a corporation reveals to us our capitalistic habits, we are unsettled. Yet, if we are spun genial stories of consuming paradise, we feel comfortable retreating into the elysium fields of shopping malls, box-stores, and large chains. (NB: Support your local businesses. It does a lot more for your communities.) We are uncomfortable with confessions or revelations that disrupt out desperate search for happiness, wholeheartedness, and fulfillment. The true teacher will tell you that you need these disruptions because you cannot live a full life without being aware that you, too, contribute to inequity. That is why people ask you to recognize your privilege, even if you don’t feel very privileged. Inequity is why we become bitter. That’s why you hear people say cruel things about people they don’t know. Everyone is bitter about something. Yet, for our own souls, we should fight against resting in bitterness. I’m trying to do that, anyway. It shouldn’t be a default position.

HBO / Buzzfeed **read sardonically

I think this is why I love Kristeva’s theory of abjection. The disruption of boundaries and barriers through the thing that disgusts or triggers us. Dirt, filth, crap.

I’m now using prose to weave a web that must be untangled to get to the point. I was walking down the street, listening to Paloma Faith. I was reminded of a love lost. It wasn’t even a love gained or fulfilled. It is a confusing relationship that always thrusts me into the more existential of my crises. It was a moment for transparency, but thankfully we had fans and flowing sheets to hide ourselves.

I consider myself a fairly straightforward person. But, I hate crying in front of people. I have cried in front of people, but I have also definitely been shamed for it. There were two people who helped me when I was once really broken: my best friend who dried the tears from my eyes and a classmate of mine who told me that I should close my eyes and imagine my breath was expanding and contracting a giant red balloon. That imagery still works. It still makes me smile. That is why I send so many balloon emojis. Not because I’m sad, but because they invoke a sense of calm, childlike freedom, and happiness. I once had a friend say that I would judge them if they cried throughout the film. Nope. I think the most cathartic moment I ever had was when I watched HP 7.2 in Bath, UK. I went by myself to a late showing. I was almost attacked on my way home. I’m getting ahead of myself. So, I sat in the cinema by myself because I was travelling alone. Of course, there were others watching, but I did not know them. I had already started sobbing by the time the Harry Potter logo appeared. I had tissues erupting from my purse like Vesuvius. I was openly revealing my emotional response, and suddenly others around me openly wiped tears and blowed their noses too. Why are we so afraid to reveal our emotional responses? They don’t reveal our truths or our stories? Although, I was vulnerable, I am proud that I made it a safe space to respond.

I wasn’t crying because it was Harry Potter, necessarily. I was crying because I was tired. I was alone. My grandfather had just been tirelessly cruel to me. Tyranny will do it every time. I missed my mom so much. I was privileged to be travelling, but it was also scary to be alone and so in charge of my own security. Guys, if you want to ease your stress when you’re travelling, stay in B&Bs rather than hostels. If you’re in a rather large group, hostels work, but if you’re by yourself or even with a partner, stay in a B&B. Do yourself that favour. Yet, no one in that cinema KNEW those reasons. In fact, I wasn’t even sure of the reasons. It was just a moment of release. It was a dark room where emotions were high, and yah, it was Harry fricking Potter.

We are beings with such varied emotions and emotional responses, but we are so uncomfortable with our emotions. I find that with little children. Parents will yell at them ‘STOP CRYING.’ But that’s bollocks. Don’t do that. There are times when we ALL throw a bit of a tantrum, and I know it’s stressful, but don’t stifle emotions. I also think children learn to be afraid to say what’s going on inside. I think there is a twofold explanation: 1) one assumes our parents are omnipotent and must understand our distress 2) one is afraid to speak up to claim one’s inner truth. With our families, our emotions and emotional responses are always rougher and less gentle than with people we don’t know. For instance, if someone tells me the same story 10x, I’m okay with it. If my mom tells me more than once, I listen. But if my sister does it, I could fly off the handle. But, at the same time, I think it’s because I absorb what my sister says because I love her, I listen to my mom because I respect her, and I sometimes forget other’s stories. (I also have a terrible memory, sorry guys). (Also, I hate it when people tell me ‘you said that already.’ shush).

I’ve been having a bit of writer’s block lately. I’ve wanted to just splat my soul onto these metaphorical pages. Unfortunately, I always feel I’ve revealed too much. Of course, the weather has been sort of grey, and I’ve been losing time to the job boards. I have this weird feeling that if we want to discover time travel and worm holes, we must look no further than job boards. Time really flies, when you can’t find a job. haha. I made a funny. 😛

***

Channel 4 / tumblr **so we’ve got time 😛

Go make yourself a cup of tea and come back. I’m drinking coffee; hazelnut flavoured. I don’t usually like flavoured coffee, but this stuff is amazing–hot, cold, nom. 

So, I know this post is long, but I’ll share an abridged story here:

I was in love with someone before. It wasn’t really a mutual affair. But it was a deep love. It wasn’t always romantic. It was just this deep-seated love that couldn’t be broken. Sometimes, it was a crutch because it felt easier to be in love with one soul than to admit it’s hard to open yourself to others. In any case, I’m fairly certain I would have trekked the earth for this person. I should explain, I was brought up on the religion of love. For me, God was a force that helped my (polish) mom’s dad (not the one mentioned above) and grandmother live through WWII. It was a force that meant that, even though he died days after my birth, I am always certain of his love. Love is doing the dishes so it’s nice for your mom when she comes home from work. Love is letting my (senior) dog walk as far as she wants in one direction and then carrying her home because she’s stubborn. So, I loved this person. A lot. Nothing ever came of it. I never did anything. Neither did they.

There were no truths shared. Poems tangle the feelings to conceal the shame of a love unfilled. My shame is not towards other people, but towards that person. I wanted them to know me, but I didn’t want to share. It seems like that proves we were ill-suited for love. If that deeper trust couldn’t be realized, then love couldn’t truly exist there. Oh, hindsight. You’re vision is spectacular, even if mine is not.

At the same time, I don’t think I lost anything by not opening myself to others. I know that seems a fairly final ruling, but I was really busy. I had other things going on in my life. I always worked and volunteered throughout school. I think that’s what we need to teach young people. If love doesn’t work out when you want it to, make sure those aren’t your only memories. Make sure you build yourself into a whole person, with or without a partner, because you need to be able to sit and look back on those years and feel happy with how you spent your time.

I’ll leave it here, but I’ll be posting a follow up to this (tomorrow-ish). Thank you for sharing this time with me; you’re all such peaches.

Warmest Wishes,
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