All your Nows

All your Nows

 

Already a part of my Then
And then things changed
You became part of my urgent present
Rushing, cramming, indulging;
Gorging in readiness for the famine
That slow, bittersweet yearning
Borne of separation
Our Now in tattered crumbs
Snatched gratefully, desperately
Grabbing in-between times and lives
Jinked and jilted but still trickling in
This time; this gift; this Present
But presently you came
To the matter of Forever
Thought thoughts I’d thunk
Raised concerns I cannot deny
Nor shrink
Nor answer
Except to say okay
Maybe you have a point about tomorrow
But maybe tomorrow never has to come
If, instead, you give me
All your Nows
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Vigilance

blacksmith-s-forge

In an rare moment of unguarded confidence

I let a friend read my poetry.

” I learned something about you today,”

Striking fear into my soul.

I felt myself lock into place

Like a blacksmith’s hammer to iron,

shaping my resistance,

building my fortress.

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Scraps

I found a list today

it was your handwriting.

Tossed into a drawer

full of other of life’s castoffs.

It’s been long enough.

For just a moment,

I was happy

to have seen it.

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A Smooth(ie) Move

Smoothie

Apple, banana, a sprinkle of green tea
(powdered), spring water, blueberries – see?
I’ll blend them up and make them smooth
No way such fruits could ever prove
Themselves as whole, for in their form
As originals, it’s not the norm
To eat so many, yet in a cup
All blended down, we sup and sup
And sup some more – this stuff’s our jam
We’ll post it all on Instagram;
Whatever recipe we’ve found; ­­of berries, seeds,
Yoghurt, honey, spices, weeds?
Veggies, spinach – superfoods
Just drink them down, and be amused
By sudden, sharp controversy
‘Cos kale’s the devil and tastes like pee
And ‘fore you know it, you’re entrenched
In arguments which just commenced
From amongst the hoards
Of lurkers, stalkers, ‘terminally bored’s
Each with their idea will come
“Try it with lychee – it tastes YUM!”
Have it with pineapple! Change the greens!
They’ve all got opinions, it seems
But hang on in there, and get set
Cos trust me – you ain’t seen nothing yet
Enter the hardcores – paleos display
An intrest…or vegans…or those who eat clay
(You think I’m kidding? It’s ground up dust
Or fossils, chelated minerals and must
Oh MUST be good for you – NASA use it
Don’t bother to Google or try to prove it
Just take my word) Good grief! Hell’s bells!
The conversation twists and swells
To factions, farmer’s-market-pitching
Fruit and veg towards your kitchen
Each with a line of thought to prove
To make your drink just that
Little bit
Extra
SMOOTH!

Between the Lines

No Love Lost

And then there are those who get lost
Between the lines; whose lives transposed
In blood, and sacrifice of sanctity –
Of flesh –
Gouge runnels to avoid,
And yet create more, mess…

There are those whose anger bleeds
Turned inwards, for turned out t’would never cease
Or desist, and so ‘tis simpler then
To dig deep,
Watch red,
And be stilled when
It flows and pours away

And then those others whose bruised bones
Don’t shatter, bend, or break;
Whose rhythmic tones
Of thud-thud-thudding
Stay the course of action
To something worse?
To catatonia?
Distraction?

Or those whose muddled heads fill in
So quick with vengeant anguish at their sin
(Whomsoever’s the fault, they take it for their own)
And through disfigurement somehow disown
Their part, for transformed thus
By shame; by scars
Pathetic! Such a fuss
And all laid on their skin to no avail
Except now all can see how very
Very
VERY
Much
They fail.

Those white-tracked lines
Those faded, skin-sealed whispers
All combine
In permanent reminder of
This time
That time
One time
Again you cut;
You cut again!
All saw
You cut
Dumbfuck.

 

Poetry can strike at any time, and on this occasion it was a submitted post over at Sisterwives – The Last Time I Cut – which was the culprit inspiration for this piece.

Each verse I wrote has applied to me in the past (sadly not as distant past as I would prefer to admit) and the lack of compassion therein is only extended to myself. Self-harm is bad news, because it often feels like the only way forward at times, and if you do it, please find someone you trust to talk to about it. 

Martyrdom

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Napoleon in a fur coat.

The work is not pretty,

but it must be done.

*

Someone must take responsibility,

and if it’s me, well

I will do what I must.

*

Hate me if you will.

I stand by my convictions.

I will do the dirty work,

the unenviable tasks.

*

I’m nobody’s hero,

just another hard-working joe

willing to do what needs to be done.

*

  unnamed (51)

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Keep her caged

I will stand strong

All that you don’t see when anger paces round
Her brain; her muscles tense when it won’t back down
The things you can’t envisage, though she imagines them now
Keep her caged, keep her caged, and stay calm somehow

Things you don’t hear, which her inner voice screams
Times you don’t fear cos she won’t say what she means
Envisioning the havoc which could be unleashed
Keep her caged, keep her caged, ‘til the storms have ceased

Moments you’ll never know she’s just hanging on
Everything she won’t show ‘til you’re already gone
Hackles raised, teeth bared, and fists clenched tight
Keep her caged, keep her caged, then you’ll be alright

You might just sometimes catch it in a glint of her eye
A fleeting, fearsome glimmer as emotions run high
If you hear her voice has turned as cold and deadly as ice
Keep her caged, keep her caged, and try to stay nice

If someone hurts someone she loves, then it’s no surprise
That ideations play behind those murderous eyes
She wants to hunt them down and vent the force of her rage
If you want to keep them safe, keep her caged, keep her caged.