And so we watch and so we learn/With eyes wide for our dreams to yearn

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It was only a tuesday open mic

When over ciders 

And under stars

I met a girl who knew the words

I meant before I spoke them
It was only just a conversation

I don’t even remember her name but

Her eyes gleamed

And the night spun

In surprise and familiar resonance 
It was only recently I’d returned

From crossing sky to see

Cerros, cities 

Cobble stones and sand

All under & over mountains in the moon
It was only a few minutes

But my ache I saw in her too

The love

That leaves you

In pieces, tucked in each corner of the globe
It was only a tuesday open mic

When under stars

And over ciders 

I realised others love in pieces too

They just get better at living it


Bacterial Colony

Like gremlins, there is a feeling
Growing, living ‘neath my skin
Breathing organisms of unspoken truths
Alien to kith and kin

Begun as secrets hatched inside
Hidden valves of heart and spinal bone
Carried, warded, fostered close
How strange, to feel what’s outward unknown

X-rays would display it all perhaps
What initially blossomed between
Clavicle and sternum, held in every breath
Jaw tissue, heart and spleen

It grew to my extremities
Fear held the muscle of upper arms
Hands clench holding words and souls
Tension between scapulas, tenderness in palms

Until it bubbled beneath the surface
And scabbed, itching to be torn free
To expose raw skin, still sensitive, pink
For a relief worth all the anxiety

They say we contain multitudes
Bacterial cells numbering mine
But they never speak of feeling them
Each one, awareness over-refined

Through gestation I knew to keep them deep
I understood fragility in chrysalis form
But now imago has been finally reached
But now, I simply want them gone

Diwali in Two Voices

In my current travels through India, I’ve had the chance to spend time with Deatheaten. And what better way to document experiences with two scribblers such as ourselves, than through poetry?

Today was like a buffet which I did not start because there were too many entrees
And yet I still could not believe that the stones beneath my feet held me
Let me start by explaining how fireworks wok: first there is gunpowder, then there is fire – the rest is poetry
No, it’s all just a song, variations on a theme transcending this universe
In a way, Diwali is the biggest firecracker, and we’re just balls of flame
Some only fit to fizzle out, or be shot down by stupidity – others full of decent whiskey, something more
Everything bursting in the sky, and reflected in the water below – the sea, everything we see
And in that, the watchers are not merely observers, but feeling and reacting one and the same, that unified BANG
It’s good music you know, when you see it after hearing it
But not quite as good as music you reshape in the moment, surely
So we’ll stop telling you about Diwali – and get to the bananas
For there’s nothing quite as violent, as sunglasses slashing throats, with a delicate lady finger
…that’s what she said
(He wishes)
Well the lady is a firecracker
And thus, through gunpowder, we have created poetry


You are not a simile. You are not a metaphor
You are not a machine or a puzzle or a piece of equipment, you know 
You are human 
Breathe it in now. Feel that, tendons and muscles of your diaphragm expanding? 
Yes, there is engineering there 
And hear that, the tiny hairs of your inner ear registering vibrations that your brain is translating, into sounds and then meanings
– yes. 

But you. 
You are not a car or a phone, to be taken apart. 
You do not belong in a tool shed, sitting on a workbench;
You do not have a specific set of calibrations on which you will always run perfectly 
Let go of your toolbox. 
Your vocabulary is that of an engineer, but people are not things to see broken and repaired 
– breathe. 
Your insides may resemble the motor of a car, but you are infinitely messier than any model they could design. 
We were never made to be perfect. 
We were never made to fully understand how,
To deal with others of our own kind – o
r even our very own selves
– yes
Hold out your hands and watch fingers intertwine 
How supple skin and tissue moves to fit against another,
Watch new handshake l
ike an enzyme reaction, and yet even more goes behind this
– we are malleable 
And ever growing, don’t you see?
e were never meant to fit our own hands together, or be the entire solution to any puzzle
– this isn’t a design flaw,
We are human 
And we were made to grow together.

Leave your tinkering terminology behind for this one,
Put away your spanner
For you are not a spare washer, or a rusty piece of circuitry 
You are not an engine or a radio or a cybernetic sentience, 
You are organic
Kin to the trees and vines that stretch their leaves haphazardly, in perfect Fibonacci swirls
Out into the wide world, seeking sunlight and nourishment;
Even if you were to be autotrophic, still you would depend upon another,

This collection of eukaryotic cells conglomerated into a whole you call You,
Multicellular Singular
– yet saying you do not have an affinity for organic lifeforms
Believing that amongst the rest of us, you are somehow Other?

For you are not a simile, or a metaphor, or a piece of equipment
You are messy and complete and completely natural,
With internal systems more complicated than even you and I may ever be able to understand
You are Human 

My Littlest Sister

Moon bright, moonlight
Stars fill my eyes
Fire burn, take your turn
To warm the midnight skies

Misery, don’t come to me
As the sea is always there
A mermaid sang with gracefulness
And a mane of silver hair 

Dolphins play, just everyday,
Like moon beams with the sun
My heart is filled with pure joy
Cause I love everyone 

The reefs are filled with wonders
That I’ll never see again
But now the moon has left me
So I’ll wait until I’m ten 

Moon bright, moonlight
Please bless my lucky star
With hope and no misery
I’ll seek out wonders far

A Series of Unknown Poems

A person I once knew shared these with me. He never gave me any names in regards to who wrote them, but they’ve stuck with me. So now I’m sharing them with you.

*:・゚✧  *:・゚✧ *:・゚✧  *:・゚✧  *:・゚✧ *:・゚✧

Dreams, Pain and Perfection

The music slowly fades away
Giving way to boundless sorrow
Emptiness that won’t disappear
With the coming of any tomorrow.

The darkness deepens by the moment
Shadows lengthen with the dying light
Can you hear the silence growing
Sealing our fate tonight.
The dreams go up in smoke,
Scarring deeper than the skin
And when the thoughts begin to choke,
Hope starts to wear thin.
The pain and the perfection
Of memories of you,
Reminiscing of times past
And thinking to myself ‘What if’.
Too many times I’ve turned away from you,
Looked away when I never wanted to.
Blinded by something I couldn’t see,
Dead to something that was in front of me.
Yet now it all seems so right,
What we wanted will be tonight,
And all else slips from my mind,
There’s only one thought I can find.
The rain can’t dampen my spirits
Anymore than the pain
So perfect that everything’s wrong,
The mirrored illusion shatters.
The dreams go up in smoke,
Scarring deeper than the skin
And when the thoughts begin to choke,
Hope starts to wear thin.
The pain and the perfection
Of memories of you,
Reminiscing of times past
And thinking to myself ‘What if’.

*:・゚✧  *:・゚✧ *:・゚✧  *:・゚✧  *:・゚✧ *:・゚✧  


The Power of Dreams.

 I walk in the shadow of a cloud,
The wind and not the sun adding colour to what is around me.
I implore it to wash away all my dark times.
Those times spent under the sun.
The gale blows my mind clean.
It carries me over the sun,
Something which seemed bright once.
Time is not the only healer after all.
My heart is opened to the storm.
Its raw, numb, coldness soothes and numbs my wounds.
Growing sick of my body, I am lost with nature.
My soul rides the crests of waves,
Floats through the sky on the wings of an albatross,
Explores the deepest chasms and mysteries of the earth.
I cannot describe where I am or what I do.
Nature takes me high, higher than I have ever been.
My mind is healed, so I return to my dead body.
And as life claims it,
I wake up.

*:・゚✧  *:・゚✧ *:・゚✧  *:・゚✧  *:・゚✧ *:・゚✧  

Left. Right. Up. Down.
Its a series of twists. Turns. Ups. Downs. Inversions. Madness.
Just to make it less of a mess.
Make all those little colours line up.
Make it look better.
There are some who don’t bother.
Who take it as it comes.
They make no effort.
They aren’t bothered by the dissarrayed and disoriented layers.
There are some who go by algorithms.
Who just follow someone else’s steps.
Do it over and over again.
Just to see how fast they can get.
And take steps to make it smoother.
Cushion the impact.
No point really.
Doesn’t get you anywhere.
Doesn’t give you anything to be really happy about.
Then there are those who do it right.
Use their logic.
Make the right decisions.
Live through the bad luck.
Take advantage of the good luck.
Who take it apart just to find out how it works.
They’re going to end up the best.
But the thing is, it doesn’t matter how fast you do it.
Doesn’t even matter if you don’t arrange it all.
If you have it, you’re gifted.
Left. Right. Up. Down.
Do it whichever way suits you best.
Its yours to choose.
And for all of you who haven’t got it.
Its not the cube.
Think outside the box.
This is life.

*:・゚✧  *:・゚✧ *:・゚✧  *:・゚✧  *:・゚✧ *:・゚✧  

Looking up at the stars,
I wondered how they got so high,
What they were motivated by to reach such dizzy heights..
I saw their true state,
To be more free than a bird over the ocean,
Than a whale in the sea,
To be held back by nothing but your own will,
To have nothing higher than you,
To be more than human…
The majority of humanity still remained,
Held back by the shackles of mortality,
Encased, cocooned tightly in the web of life,
Stuck forever with no escape,
Fumbling in the darkness with unseeing eyes,,
That could not open,
Even for a rare glimpse of the sky.
I then looked upon what we were missing,
The whole, open, unseen outside.
Where the visionaries and heroes dwelt,
Those who had taken the leap,
Not looking back but only going farther,
Purposeful, yet purposeless,
Bending the world with pure will,
They lived, nay, existed with a freedom that was real,
Impossibly breaking out of the cocoon of mortality.
How was I to cast off the chains?
Where would I find the key to the lock?
The strength to jump that high,
The strength to jump that high and not look down.
Where were life’s secrets hidden?
Looking inside me,
Searching my very soul,
I found all I needed.
It was enlightenment.
In addition to mundane senses,
I saw what was real.
Using pure will, I cut the cocoon.
The chains vanished into nothingness,
I decided to be a star.
I was now master of myself,
Time had no power over me,
For I controlled it with pure will.
I was free, unbound, to use mundane language.
Not looking down onto the cocoon,
For I had evolved,
I was more than human.
Looking forward, I could not stop going farther.
I was higher than everything else,
God could not hear me,
For I went higher than he.
My experience now transcended language.
For humanity,
I left this manuscript in the cocoon,
To try and give,
A rare glimpse of the sky.  


It’s August. August September October November…time is creeping closer. Diwali is nearing. The time to fly back to India inches it’s way over the horizon and into the periphery of my visible future. 

And I am scared. 

I’ll be flying alone this time. No family, no parents, no grandmother watching my back this time. I’ve flown alone before, but never so unshielded, so without established structure and shelter. And that is thrilling. But…it’s new. Daunting. India is dangerous, especially for an 18 year old, for a white woman. So many bad things could happen. This goes against all the conventions of safety. I don’t even know how well I will be able to cope amid so much unfamiliar, without anyone guiding me. If I’ll even be able to make enough money to afford the full trip. There’s so much uncertainty, trepidation, unfamiliarity and yes fear, of the unknown and quite possibly life threatening. 

But I have to go. 

It’s not a want or a whim or a fleeting dream anymore. This isn’t 2012. This is need, this is the moon calling ocean tides, tugging them closer, dhanyavad, shukriya and nandri being mixed with efcharisto and gracias in my mental responses, to my predominately greek and spanish speaking co-workers. This is the familiarity and trust and joy, established in the three days I had with my friends there, last time, demanding to be built upon. I need to come back, and find familiarity in the sound and sight of friends laughing beside me in person. I need to see the cities they all speak of, the beautiful and the ordinary and the ugly, the reality that created so much that I love. 

And it will be a risk. I am trusting myself to stand alone and strong, beside those who may permit me, in your India. Things can and probably will go wrong. But I have made too many plans to bail now. And I know, I believe with absolute certainty, that it will be worth it.