Sunday, 28 November 2010

Sad Little Smile



There's a framed memory on the living room bookshelf:
of a little girl
running
through woods
and clinging onto
oaked nature

Two
bluebell eyes
peer up
in youthful wonder
as her
sad
little
smile
asks:
Will You Be My Friend?

There's a framed memory on the living room bookshelf:
My ageless soul encased in Kodak film.

Innocence is bliss



i did wonder who she was
as i entered those chipped green gates
all those years ago
chesnut waves bouncing
pink school satchel neatly fastened

thirteen years later
i still wonder
staring back at those same eyes
in the glint of a half-filled champagne flute

has anything really changed since walking through?

her hair is paler
and her lips are painted rose
but still
the same bright eyes blink back
vibrant in anticipation
for the world she decrees
Beautiful

the way she looks
through those eyes
seems little different
from what she saw
fifteen summers ago

but how can all this time
have past; certainties flung
into oblivion
hearts torn
achievements stock-piled
and wounds mended-
and her mind be no different?

maybe she was just born
with an old soul
or perhaps
the best eyes to peer from
really are
those of a child.

Thursday, 25 November 2010

You humiliate my soul



Patronising
Adj- (used of behavior or attitude) characteristic of those who treat others with condescension, behaving with an air of superiority.

I dare you

I dare you
to make my soul cower
just one more time

I dare you
to make me
in a throw-away moment
forget every kind word ever kissed
in my direction

I dare you
to make me ashamed
to have ever opened my mouth
and allowed words to fall out

I dare you
to package me off
with a pan and a brush


I dare you
to scream until I
attempt to sweep
my own small imploding limbs
and my
even smaller
imploding thoughts
into the
trashthat you decree equates to them

I dare you
to flick me aside
as a thing
which has failed to
inspire or impress you

I dare you to
pepper
my eyes
just one more time

Go on-I fucking dare you.

Wednesday, 24 November 2010

I am exhausted



and happy. As in, my body is exhausted, but my mind is one alert, sparky mawfucka! I feel as if anything could happen today. And I KNOW anything could happen any day, but we get caught up in routine and forget that, don't we?

I'm drawn to the idea of possibility. Moth to flame scenario, and it's both my downfall and my saving grace, because being aware of so many possibilities will at times utterly devestate me, and at other times, make me feel like I'm Lord of this Dance...

WE LIVE IN A BEAUTIFUL WORLD, YEAH WE DO, YEAH WE DO
- we really DO though, I've decided. For every terrifying, disturbing thing, there are at least two breath-taking, hopeful things. Things which shake you up and make you pay attention.

Wednesday, 17 November 2010

Soundtrack to my paused life 1.


Kanye- Runaway
the 35 minute music video made me cry, it's a work of art
Temper Trap- Soldier on
this song allows me to get into an emotional STATE, but in a positive, after-glow inducing way
Katy B- Katy on a Mission
An excellent tune to put your face on to, before heading out for the night..
Rihanna- Fading Away
just soft, easy listening
Temper Trap- Sweet Disposition
an eternal favourite, this song is silky, one that transports me to summer streams, and strawberries in the baking heat. quite a feat, considering the current chill- ice, and Christmas is in the air.

I'm getting dressed as I type, ready to run into town to pick up a few things, and cradle a hot chocolate until the world demands me back :) Am's just popped into my room, that girl is beautiful, and more than that, good for me. I think I'm unlucky, and then I look at my friends. I'm up there with the luckiest. I ought to count my blessings more often :)

Thursday, 4 November 2010

Many moons have passed

since she smiled into the sun, and, basking in its simple Ray, held Friendship by her softened hand, performed Yeats and Kavanagh with a girl whom she loved, performed life with a girl who loved her. Many monsoons have passed since she walked alone through the dark yet glittering city to which she was assigned, caught a train and was watched , felt a shiver down her spine singing Ssweet Caroline, to distract herself from the notion that all was not fine- it's been an even longer time since your fingers traced her back, her private smile and public laugh- at your messages in fingerprint ink- inky articles- too good to be truthful, too truthful to be good, on her back, which was tanned and smoothed by summer waves and freedom, bikini bottoms piled in a long forgotten stack- Messages lend to Guess work and tentative loving. Too much yet too little. Her hair looks quite brittle, in this light. It's a pity, my pretty, that so many moons have past. Where is she now? Have you let her slip? Silent debates- thinking, It's been a while since I held her, cradled her in my arms and told her she was beautiful- laughed, of course she had a place here! Told her there was no need to worry, that what she needed was a cigarette, a passionate lover- holiday resort- brother. That it was okay to ramble. That rambling was beautiful. That it was okay too, to use that word as frequently as she did. That her state of flux was something she could and would contend with, that there was special packaging for fine china like her, that nothing was too much, too much of a question. That her tears were salty, sad to watch. A little-old girl cry. It's been a while since she saw the lighthouse, it's been a while since she watched herself die. It's a pity, my pretty. Now look me in the eye.
Conceal me in your draw-string bag,

all lily skin, iced heart and plaid.


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