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A mouth full of marbles

You hold me until the ghosts are quiet.
Pulling into your soul this shadow of doubt.
A brain full of fire and a mouth full of marbles.
Yet you force me to speak.
A language of unsaying, fluent as the sphinx.
This hostility threatens everyone.
Those been and gone, and ones yet to be.
Sitting on the edge of expectation.
Tasting the chalk in my mouth.
My viper tongue recoils, and you slither away.
Into your own darkness, leaving just reality in my wake.
A wounded bird, a lamb in the teeth of this lion.
Yet my shepherd heart yearns for brighter days and greener pastures.
So let me spit out a saying, one practised like a prayer.
To quiver down your spine.
And rattle in your brain for an age.
Words that will flash before your eyes when you think of me.
And everything that all burnt away.

I see red

My eyes itch and my heart heaves.
Reading over and over.
Line after line.
Pulling me out of traffic, pulling me into your frame.
Surround yourself with good intentions.
A swirling world of your black and white.
Yet all I see is red.
The swan song that you misunderstand.
Plucking my heartstrings for the correct rhythm.
The right sound.
Colour your lines. Careful now, make it pretty.
This is the page we’re on, this is the hymn we’ll sing.
My story snipped down to a footnote.
A sentence that mice can devour.
In your book of course.
What was I thinking?

A dream turned inside out

Stutter.
Veiled saffron words.
Broken from your teeth.
(To hear you speak of it)
Melted away like the hazy grey of subterfuge.
Dulled sparklers in the ice cream that stings my mind.
Your new take puts my city to bed.
Breathing gold into my pulse.
Beat. As it runs away.
Mark that apology and raise your voice.
Shake me, wake me from this slumber.
A nightmare twisted into a dream.
Coiling like a peppermint candy.
Collapsed into an insomniac shudder.
A lot less frightening after your confession.
This is what I’ve seen.

Succumb to hurricanes

This theatre closed late one summer night, pulling the curtains that were a patchwork of stars.
You bowed your last, shuddering out of a promise you couldn’t keep.
As these dreams collapsed.
Pulling me through time and smacking reality in my face.
Lamplights.
Now 2am.
Slinking into sleep and flickering into a new stasis.
Part truth, part fiction.
The wrong side of poetic. Wiping the walls with the blackness that remains.
Cemented in orange courage, dabbing away the corrosives with tiny cotton wool stones.
Erasing the dates that were circled in red.
Sucking on pennies for protein. Letting it all unfold.
Carrying me away.
Monday.
Satin lined sorrow and the disinterest of my thoughts.
Closing the windows of earth once more.
Words that bind.
Falling from altitudes to nothing but blue.
Undercurrents of debris and smashed reasons.
Trapped in cage with the door wide open.
That bird in me is never going to fly to the top of the world.
Collapsed into the fading smile of your yesterday.
Succumbed to those shadows

Zephyr through my soul

Eyes stutter as bones collapse. Black ink escapes me.
I sky dive in colours, shaking these sins off my back.
Feeling the warmth from within, as the light enters my skull.
Flow.
Dropping down into the ocean, where I swim to the iridescent floor.
Swallowing topaz and truths, shining in the deep.
The world tips over and I take root, strands around me taking me up to the light.
Shooting comets across my eyes.
Trying to remember where it began.
Climbing higher this tree of life, offering my hand to you, to meet me on its branches.
Like the sweet smell of the rain, I sense your nearness.
Wrapped in the roots that bind us and strengthen our resolve.
The incense of the Garden of Eden drowns you, calling us higher.
Smouldering in my soul.
Shaking off the earthen soil of the selfish.
The tangle that bound me before, I cut away with Isaac’s blade.
Sharp and ready, made from glass.
Cutting the vines that grew so ferociously within me.
Rooting my soul here with you once more.
Lifting me to freedom.

Down for the count

Hitting below the belt, is now your signature move.
Nurturing such a disregard for me.
Bruising my inner self, my words that always came up empty.
Spat out with blood and hope.
Your maturity sent me reeling, down to the mat.
Waiting for the bell.
You can tolerate me from afar you say.
Like breaking away from a hug, it leaves me devastated.
Yet I remain. Quiet and composed. Taught to hold my head up high.
Dodging intentional verbal daggers and manufactured truths.
Your truths, your reasoning. Your horse blinders on for style.
Over substance. Over my comfort.
Through this pedestal championing, you shoulder massaging.
Cuts deep the vein of my self-respect.
Making my feel ignorant to your perfect sane mind.
I stutter and slip, tripped up on your words.
Unable to reason or fight fire with fire. Caught in your orbit.
All this time wishing on a star that was merely your own satellite.
Just a poet in your world, trying to chase the undefinable.

Embark on erasing

Erasing the love, no time to argue.
I was always alone in this, now the broken hearts magnetise themselves to me.
Please, flow in another direction.
If the pain doesn’t kill me then your apologies will.
Hold your head high, fill it with promise.
I don’t know what I mean anymore.
Words leave chalky marks on my tongue and holes in your heart.
Too much time to question these directions.
Part of it lies, part of it hope.
I throw them into the sky, hoping the sun will swallow them.
Burn out these thoughts and throw a different shadow upon me.
This day is done, and all is fading.
Set sail on a sea of illusion, taking on water, lifting the anchor of you.

Words words words

For short stories and wonderful writing, please take at look at Harley Holland Adams
Amazing writer, and brilliant ideas. More info here.

Just a sample:

THE PALE MOTH

They say that there was once a moth so pale

That her family were scared she was too frail.

Never too far in the darkness or close to the light

Her family huddled around her every night.

And every morning pale moth would cry

That if she ever fulfilled her dream she would die.

To dance and fly in the snow

Would be the greatest way to go.

Fearing this the old ones planned

To give the pale moth something sweet and Grande.

And on that very night pale moth saw a flash and fizzle

A series of flakes began to drizzle.

This snow was not what she had known to expect

But she span and danced without detect

That her family began to disappear

Replaced by snow she had always held dear.

And so pale moth delighted in the snow storm

Never wondered why the flakes were ashen and warm.

Imaginary conversations with myself

Having to leave to find my way. Stumbling over every action.
Putting up the walls to save me and which leave me shaking.
All this talk of passion, the overrated use of dialogue.
Speak to me in movement, show me your change.
I push and pull, fumbling over emotions.
Getting lost in exhausting labour, tolling emotional behaviour.
Ring the bells, and watch me fall.
Have you seen me, can you hear? My voice well-travelled.
It’s not my fault, if only you could see yourself. Licking gasoline.
So I travel at night, into praxis, into tomorrow.
Lost in confusion, yet you tell me it doesn’t matter.
You say you want me. You want my here. The same air you’re breathing.
The weather of our emotions is lifting and I still try to twist and turn things around.
Holding my breath.
Touching me deep.
Such strange ventilation. Words, words, words.

Combat(ing)

Simple words that cut me down the middle.
Do you know the shock-waves?
They effortlessly drip off your tongue.
I look away.
You go primeval, you lash and rage like a savage.
The maddening reasons of the realistic and selfish.
These scars that I show, the ones that never healed, they bleed again.
Oozing out blood and hurt like long forgotten wars.
Not ready for this skirmish, your monologues of conflict.
Declamations shake me to my soul and make me shiver out a recourse.
This moment smashes into my future, obliterating my plans.
You dance the tribal dance of difference, circling the fire and the thoughts in my mind.
I walk away from the flames and carnal look in your eyes, with tears in my own that decorate my skin.
The sound of drums fade, but never disappear completely.

The Salvation forest

This is what keeps me alive.
You drying on my skin.
Lobsters of the deep, snap memories for us to share.
For me to fish for.
Your tongue, a mind of its own.
I hope you don’t mind, that I describe you in such words.
But this is what I need. The photosynthesis of love from sadness.
Breathing deep in me, swelling my soul.
Your Picasso honey, sweet blues of strung moments to fix.
A thorn in my side and iron lung around my heart.
Feeling you on my fingertips, presenting such possibilities.
I have to kiss you.
Crawl into the space of your mind where the heart and head battle like warring gods.
Climbing mount Olympus, wax sticking, fear splitting into sweet tangible delight.
Strong roots that burst up toward the sky, like ghosts escaping a tomb.
Strange fruit that I hunger for, my teeth to bite into.
Finding your heart at the centre, I will kiss into recovery.
Restoring your pulse and transfusing our strength into something eternal.
Breathe.