So it seems, three and a half years of Hell with nothing left to show for it, except heartache and pain watching love leach from my soul; phosphorescent, sparks like spheres float up, up and away to fizzle out in to nothingness.
Since when did I become the enemy?
Clumped into the annuls of misogyny tarred / scarred for being a woman empowered because I threaten the old ways where women were barefoot and pregnant, swathed in floral aprons with floured hands kneading wholesome Madonna complexes designed to subdue.
I love
depth and passion moving my heart to where I am mesmerized in awe; my fragile smile let loose like an arrow straight and true into you and I, jubilant where I am left wondering where you have been all my life – that I would do anything for you.
I love my self more,
and I am not broken completely. I can take those looks of contempt along with those cutting words and stand my ground against interrogation/subjugation I lead myself in cycles, navigating my way out of ear shot for a while till I can stand it no more, when I hide away inside and stuff my fingers.
All is not lost,
despite my sense of guilt at not being strong enough in your eyes, unlike grandma whom you adored, admiring resilience I am merely a shade by comparison if I subscribed to your anger and hurt if I took her on and became a better person, wife, mother for you if only I chose to keep my mouth shut like she learned in the war.
I don’t believe
staying silent will keep us alive these days. Life requires I fight for truth, freedom, rights and for love so you may find your self, lifted from those ashes – Dachau, and understand that women need tenderness, a kindness that takes away the hurt of injustices, finding safety your arms filling me with hope that I am not alone.
It is with great sadness
that I must choose love, letting go the innocence of youth and embrace my own mortality if I am to be a survivor. I cannot condone atrocities of any kind and turn a blind eye without losing that part of myself that wanted to die, finding respect in being true to myself Lest We Forget.
I am mourning
a life of trials and tribulations that had me in tears for the most part. My heart is broken, I no longer believe in you, us – I am setting fire to the 3rd mar closing my eyelids on my dreams facing those feelings I have been too afraid to feel reaching in to pull them out into the open and lay myself bare so I can finally heal.
Mary, the one without
a Halo — a married whore,
found unconditional love
hiding in the soles of His feet.
After the fact that
pseudo relationships
took precedence for a while,
she washed Him clean
for no other reason
than to show respect, reverence
for one that would give
His soul for her.
2.
My feet are bare, scarred
by broken beer bottles & red
blood paint tips to toes,
manicured to perfection once
upon a time. His feet
are cold; numbness held in a vice-like
grip as she works her way up
past calves & quads seeking
warmth in the apex comfort
sucking a thumb print, embedded
ecstasy applying pressure
where it hurts, to ease the pain.
3.
She thinks the sun shines.
Cradling his head, healing hands
mindful of circular breathing, muscles & tendons ache for release.
Mary doesn’t mind manipulating
bones, fingering the spaces
in between, redirecting blood flow
to all the right places. Kneading,
stretching & burns ping back, send signals like sparks; endorphins
take up the slack, usher in sweet
sensation & nipples peek.
There’s nothing special about Mary
knowing a thing or two,
making money serving more than a handful of life’s little pleasures. Making hay while the sun
shines requires little effort on her part, preferring to let it slide
up past the point of no return. Those days over now
before they really took hold.
4.
Mary looks at him spent, kinesthetic
energy on standby as he reconsiders
where he stands. The party’s over,
someone has to clean up, Mary
learning to love the hand
that feeds her, wishing sometimes
for independence and silence, in
between phone calls. Those days
over now, up for tender for the next
wave of youthful antagonists who seek an existence unbeholden. Love
knows no rules of engagement.
Snails pace, in my frenzy to move the mountains of my dreams / nightmares of pirate ships, skull and crossbones flap uncontrollably on a tumultuous sea, draw ever near.
Albatross and Kookaburra tear me apart, settling somewhere in between; salvation coming in from all sides, conjures vibration and a vortex rages, weaving through those fateful past lives — Furies casting their spell.
I have lived through aeons and yet I have not yet lived. My desire to ascend a blessing in disguise and wise, for we all must return to the stars to find peace. Our time on Earth, stepping stones to enlightenment fraught with danger and it will continue to go on and on and on.
We navigate the shit storms, weather the highs and lows, scan the horizon for those rogue waves we see coming in a little too late \ curse ourselves before they crash land on our front doorstep. They’ve brought me back down a peg or two.
My life is blessed. I have always been protected by the Gods, Goddess filling my heart with love but it’s not always been for me. I stole love and devoured hearts like Daenerys Stormborn; her last supper broke the spindle but she left her mark.
We all make mistakes, fuck up, hurt the people we love until we face ourselves in the mirror | pray for forgiveness.
Uhh!
Awakening taking an age to consolidate this solid ground, surrender showing us release in the end, so we break the wishing wheel, ride the lightening Zeus inspires and feel our way back home.
That uncomfortable feeling of awkward recognition and detachment — that made me want to run least I fall apart, reveal my core which you saw, reflected back at you between glimpses.
That unspoken knowing.
I felt the push of energy and the pull of old habits back into regression, back into the familiar comfort zone of old where nothing changes and we both die a little bit more inside and destiny forgets to reset.
I’m wondering if we’re humble enough to surrender, strong enough to become vulnerable long enough to push through the sparks, ignite the fire and transform pain into passion so we can both decide to rise.
We dance as if we’re going nowhere but in reality, we are already somewhere. Somewhere untapped, viscerally raw and undeniably on the edge of something far greater than either of us anticipated of love.
I want us to push through.
We are free falling to unknown depths and still creating marble pillars from blind faith alone, to eck out an existence that illuminates the veils so we can both find freedom in enlightenment.
All we need to do is walk through the door and let go of the past once and for all and finally fall completely and utterly in love where nothing else matters, except us.
That niggling voice belies demons who whisper their disapproval. I don’t want them to hate her. It’s easier to hide away until she can return, find compassion for their mistrust.
She is too big.
The things she pontificates under duress, scare me. It is best that I learn to trust Hermes – to ask for something with a reason instead of stealing something without one.
Mourning.
Loss, tears open a hole — splits a scar further apart; destroying a perfectly sealed crust. Fragments of flaky skin scatter to the wind, shed a diatribe of unforgiving.
She moves in and out of the ether.
Flying through space and time searching for another wormhole, another passage to take her to Persephone, that damned alter-ego who dwells in the deep recesses of purgatory. Home is where her heart aches to return.
Demeter negotiates another extrapolation.
Manifesting a spiral vortex, she hones her parts and I wait for the impact to knock me off my feet — wake me up with a jolt of epiphany where I love the magnificence of my creation.
She does not belong to Hades.
Demeter is radiant. All the virtues I try to bestow; a culmination of strength and vitality and love to honour – my integrity in spades.
I am omnipresent.
Her mouth is shut preferring solace over a wailing lament that conjures a maelstrom of death and dying. I could do well to endure no more, wrath has held me bound.
Tonight Demeter ascends.
I return to myself and you are free to wander in search of true love and find your Artemisia, a perfect match for your Nemesis.
My ether box graunching & grinding through stargates shudders, misfiring synapses lurch from push to pull ascending descending traversing my self worth, mitigating losses tempering gains. I am giving in, my self esteem proving much harder to love and set free.
I’m trying to make peace my lover. Finding my path with you is unconventional at best excruciating at worst, leaving behind socially acceptable hopes & dreams settling in to formalities — contracts designed to pave the way; a gold lining to my pewter paradise on that long road to happiness. I stare into Aphrodite through my looking glass & blow her a kiss goodbye.
Skeleton’s eventually decay but demons still want to purge pain, set me up to fail tempt Narcissus to stray, to step away from his reflection & risk a coward’s death. I ask the Goddess for forgiveness trust my fate & fury & instinct to guide me. Psyche would lead me astray to plummet over the edge of reason — but Aphrodite will broker a deal.
Start over. My fossil fuelled forge will always find a way forward, transform blue light beams into fire, illuminate those pitchforks & burning crosses hiding in my ether; shadows that threaten to cast spells & incinerate whole galaxies, merely pseudo reflections of my reality. I choose you & take no prisoners at the same time, for I choose wisely.
There is no burden I cannot bear when it comes to you, how you see yourself is a reflection. We hold our head & hearts in their hands; their hands create a destiny for us both. We are intertwined & enlightened — a gift from God. Our souls recognise, accept & understand there is only now, the past is gone. The future is whatever we divine.
Killing me softly like that song, trying not to harm me, trying not to lie — letting me fall to see if I come back stronger. I know what you’re doing; giving me facts to face my fears so you don’t have to wear a mask.
Sinking me down further, bit by bite.
You watch me wrestle with Psyche, see the squalls before they arrive, the rogue waves looming on the horizon and try to navigate the shit storm that is my life or so I imagine her lot,
Sometimes.
Forecast’s based upon trust, an old school remedy tried and tested over centuries of trial and error, almost on the doorstep of my abandonment. I have to want to choose my life over my life, play with fire or die in vain — seek some sort of comfort hold that pulls me close (safe), that doesn’t strangle me in my sleep.
Demeters demise.
Comes as no surprise then. Her return from the underworld fraught with danger, shed the All, her only hope of salvation and ascension coming to light; Zeus rumbling his desires expects nothing less than a fathers love in return.
I think I am forsaken.
You think I am like Poppy, offer me a chance to be apart of a real family, show me another way to heal, to find warmth and trust that I am genuinely loved where I can thrive, in time. Something I have too much of and not enough to squander.
I want to give it all away.
My job, my friend, my life in exchange for something worth fighting for, yet I am bereft, devoid and damaged beyond repair and you cannot reach me. I need more time to get over you.
Another, will begin another end
to wear me down to char. Somehow my destiny taunts me, forces me to watch and become nothing but a burdon I still have to carry when I can no longer fight and I don’t have what it takes to push through, for you.
Trust no one.
Bravery has always been a strong fulcrum point, an internal compass that leaps toward faith, a little too close for comfort in the end. My judgement will come as swiftly as Hera came forward to claim what was rightfully hers, tearing out her own heart for the sake of her enemies!
You don’t want me.
My demons are telling me I have to die a bit more in order to live but it still hurts to say goodbye. Either way, I am lost right now and there’s nothing anyone can do. You’re all in for a hell ride while I deconstruct and I make no guarantees that I will survive intact this time.
Evolution.
My head is trying to cling to straws while my heart is breaking and I have no where left to go, except home. The secret to survival is balancing hope and despair. I am doing my best and I am so tired.
Guflydktskyl vg j jkhlhc. Khhc khckhc. Uclhfflh. Yxjrekh. Kyeekgxkyggl. It all makes no sense to me. Just empty words in hollow spaces
Poetry Out West 