Monthly Archives: April 2014

the charming sock.

it is not so much a mask
but like a sock
i slip on unnoticed.

insidious, cunning
charming sock.

i write poems
in board rooms
and dream of
shadows
as my muscles
seek the pilates burn

i write poems
as i dance
and dance until
i lose myself
and succumb

the charming sock
finally discarded
my truth
lies naked
in music and movement
deafening
truth.


dumb.

your face is confused
and dazed. covered with
incomprehension
but refusal to learn
i do not care
about your
inconsequential life
i do not care
about your
your daughter or wife
when your only
reaction to feedback
is to shout profanities
at me,
i live up to my name
i do not pity
fools and i do
not play your game.
leave your stupidity
at the door
and take your label.


pure black.

my heart is seeping
black, cold charcoal
ashes of a heavy,
blundering boulder.
the ashes permeate
suffocate and yet
i spend my days
i yearn and surrender
wait to be enveloped
crave the black hole
of endless depth and
pure silence.


cooking with fig and papaya.

every year
i try again
to like
fresh figs and papaya

the concentrated
sweetness of their
dried counterparts
i can handle

but the soft,
mawkish flesh
and feeble, diluted
flavour… it thwarts me.

i have always
found some of
my most vivid
memories are knitted
to scents and the
sight of those meals
we made

laksa and miso
too big for
my tiny cheap pots
overflowing
with every vegetable
we could stomach

lentils and dahl
and the infamous
soup mix
drenched in only
the finest olive oil
despite our pauper
means

chilli on everything
garlic on everything
kale smoothies
sweet potato…
as a grain
goats yoghurt.
all yoghurt.
cheese
and wine.
and more cheese.
and more wine.

so many food
memories.
they do not make me hungry
but they make me smile.

 


1% potential.

it became a pattern
of frenzied activity
of intimate musings and
shared whispers
it was so close to her
and then quietly
and then swiftly
removed
they could not describe
or explain away
dreams of jumping
for trains
and steel-like gaze
to masked acceptance
of the insanity

the only voice of reason
is the one inside
my head
and the only truth
he believes in is in
her heart
the force of two heads
and two realities
wandering and crashing
as a result of 1%.