Untitled

if you’re looking for something beautiful

why’d you come to me

knowing I’m not capable

sure I love

the look of summer-hazy woods

those leafy canopies

teaching the soil underfoot how to glow

and dance

but what would I know about dancing

release, relief, intensity

                all those good-time things

                                moonlight scares me

it’s never cared for me

                or shimmered upon my skin

                                in some car-park romance

or maybe it has

                and I was too self-conscious to notice

 

nah, it didn’t

                there were headlights and glass shards

crisp packets and a homeless guy

                with a broken arm

I’ll admit that was my favourite birthday        

full of you and us

                bus-rides, the ducks, water pistols

                                you, Us

goddamn…you and Us

                why do you continue to creep into my poems

                                when you’ve decided to become meaningless

I need meaning

                meaning I need

                               

 

something

a slap in the face

a kick up the arse

                how does it feel to be a violent metaphor

                                does it suit your aggression

all hail

the mind of a poet

                aggression rhymes with passion

                                which leads back to the park

the first time I valued a moment

                enough to record my own voice

                                as I documented your smile on camera phone

 

I hope this is the last time I ever write like this

because a wish

                is just regret tarted up

but unfortunately hope is just lies

 

                when we kissed

                                in full-view

of the families playing tennis

                             did you finger my happy abandon

                with your narcissistic talons

I wish

yes, here it comes

                I wish

 

                         I could have heard what you were thinking

                                did it resemble happiness

or malice

                or something in-between   

 

at the time

did it already mean nothing?

 

Author's Note

It wasn't supposed to be another piece about this stuff, I swear.

Reviews

[Hedra Helix]

Haha... the subconscious circling of the brain is a b***h, aint it? F*****g human anatomy! I swear!

But whatever, milk it all baby, better to have the pain recorded for when you need it rather than go looking for it later when you need to write sad and you're finally happy. Which will come.
Authenticity is a gift.
Besides, I've been reading you awhile and the feel of this piece proves her talons are loosening.
Wiggle, it's good for you.

I see there isn't as much of your blood in this.

Ok, and now on to the words:

"but what would I know about dancing ) moonlight scares me
it's never cared for me
or shimmered upon my skin
in some car-park romance
or maybe it has
and I was too self-conscious to notice

nah, it didn't
there were headlights and glass shards
crisp packets and a homeless guy
with a broken arm {dope}
I'll admit that was my favourite birthday
full of you and us
bus-rides, the ducks, water pistols
you, Us {best little truest run to me in the poem, right here}
goddamn�you and Us
why do you continue to creep into my poems
when you've decided to become meaningless
I need meaning
meaning I need {niiice, loose it in front of us, milk kid milk}


something
a slap in the face
a kick up the arse
how does it feel to be a violent metaphor {

[Butterflymom]

Brillant! I found this piece to be fresh, creative, and raw. The descriptions and imagery are wonderful!

[mick weller]

...thing is they are selfish to plug some hole in their own empty-shell existences 'deciding to become meaningless'
that same hole we fell straight into
and even in letting go we never know... we never get to find out
they seem to shrug it off and move on while we linger stinging
get over it, they will say - we never can and we never will
this displays incredible confidence and perception,
and the reader realises why it hurts so much

[Emily B]

it is what it is . . . and if this stuff is creeping into your latest words, humor that. It is a stunning write. We can never really get away from the words that choose us anyway.