Dedicated to the discarded

 

I apologise to those discarded phrases

who in invoking themselves in a furious moment

were only to be crossed out, barred and abandoned

each letter was so important

yet in questioning each word

criticising each thought, I saw too

many imperfections to be fixed

like a boat with too many holes

there were simply too many plugs

and so I had to let it sink

I’m sorry for my harshness and laziness

I couldn’t save you from your creator

who couldn’t live with her imperfections.

The man eater

 

The man-eater

sucks upon the juices

savours the aroma

of bewilderment

by beauty

 

The game is played

to her advantage

the pressed flesh eroticism

stench evident upon

the mind of the toy

 

She devours

peeling away

the flesh exposing

layer upon layer

bones, organs

and finally

the heart

which she places still beating

upon the trinket-laden

charm bracelet

crowded by scattered hearts

of willing victims

she smiles.

Coming of age

 

Gathering the years over time

redressing the innocence

becoming less like a child and more like death

inevitable meanderings trap and pull

into well-worn tracks

we become like everyone else

and less like ourselves

 

Wise beyond our years

improvisation is a circulated falsehood

a mythological ideology created from nothing

a belief I nothing creates an emptiness

this illness of life kills the presence of the soul

disjointed thoughts make you forget

remember to forget yourself

 

The coming of age

brings so much and very little

the laughter mocks the tears of frustration

the sobs ridicule the waves of happiness

tender is the touch which pounds the flesh

the physical slap makes things real

remember to make life real.

The same blood

You can be red raw and still sing your song

You can have tears in your eyes and still tell your story.

The truth is where the tale lies

You cannot or should not wait to share it.

The emotion will help you to connect with others

Because everyone can see, 

understand and communicate

with feelings

So don’t be afraid to bleed onto the page.

We all have the same blood in our veins.