Poetry
This is the general category of fuckery that goes on and on and doesn’t seem interested in stopping.
-
I finally realised
Why my accent comes out
Remarkably easy without a doubt
The “West Coast” accent
I find it so harsh and in a conversation with an
Irish
British et al
Australian
New Zealander
It comes out when the conversation besides to sound
Like a saw on wood in a noisy shop versus a coursing river in a green den
A quiet evening breeze through the silent rolling hills
The rush of the river splitting the once silent nighttime city in half
A night under the stars while the bugs sing their songs
None of the things fit together so I try the softer one
The one I like better the one that phases in and out like an echo from the past past
I don’t really know the story
But they were slaves
And I am homesick
Because they were slaves
No comments on -
When they ask why I changed my name, why I didn’t change it back
When I answer it’s because my dad told me my mother named me after a guy she had a crush on and possibly slept with
True or not
The name is tainted with the memory of the telling
Will their eyes open wide?
Will they see every moment my father must have had with me from start to finish?
Will they see what kind of mother I had? What kind of father?
Will there be a look of shock, something dirty being revealed and they wish I hadn’t said it?
Or a nod of complete understanding
Of course, my father has made me privy to information I didn’t need
Many times
But I haven’t told anyone
Because at the end of the day my name means more to me
Briar Rose
Than
Ashley Rose
Every did
Ashley never rose
She only crashed and burned out
Lost in the darkness of a cold room
Begging for love in a world that never showed her
She is for before the accident
We are for after
And forever after
I do
Stuck with you
Every day
My name is yours is mine is yours
We share a name
And then it stops
The clock
-
Could you write poetry to the sunset?
Could you never tell me to do anything about sunsets ever again?
One more who didn’t need me one more doing nothing.
One more just trying to be a good person but trying must mean I’m not
One two
It knocks
Yes
It says when I question its validity
It would be nice to view the words whispered as a memory from the past but they’re not calling
Wishing the judges would give me a higher score
Wish there were no judges
Just by the make and model
Strange happenings occur
I’m not going to use the word to attach my life to some thing I haven’t seen and don’t want to
Why?
Game of Thrones
That’s why
Don’t feel like being part of the rollercoaster of
Having to share my version of the story with others
No one over thinks as well as I over think I’m over thinking right now thinking how it’s not possible there is no one who over thinks more than I do thus there are infinite people who overthink better than me
I can’t be number one
Yuzuru is number one
That’s different there’s a score system
Now I’m thinking about overthinking about overthinking about something else
Catch my drift?
No the bark of the tree doesn’t show the tree for what it truly is because it’s the inside that shows the true nature it has been through
But the outside is also what it put up to protect its insides so do we really have the right to burrow inside just because we have the strength to do it?
Now I’m overthinking about how now there won’t be any wood anymore but like man we’d be fucked without wood
I guess we’ll just send thoughts and prayers to the tree’s family also it’s family’s family because clear-cutting = Literally destroying generations of a tree family
This has been a story about the setting sun,
That has been told.
Coming from you live from,
I don’t know why but I still think Jake’s not guilty and his one song gets stuck in my head a lot.
-
You’re cute as fuck
I started singing Tragically Hip’s Tired as Fuck as Cute as Fuck
I’m older than you
I tell myself
I tell myself so I won’t tell you too much or say something to hurt you
Cute as fuck
And my god you’re beautiful and perfect how could you possibly think
Oh Hermes gave me that look again
Self awareness little human
I love you you beautiful little star.
You remind me of the peleiades
You’re still millions* of years old but you’re in a little nest of young stars bursting
God you have amazing patience, kindness, I don’t care if you’re flakey
I really like raisin bran, those are flakes too
* That was a metaphor I’d peg you around 300 give or take
You’ve been around..
And around
And around
My god that’s three hundred revolutions around
A/The sun
That’s were the ages get dicey
Well what if you were on a planet with a 600 day year?
See
It’s all
You can only answer your own questions they are within your soul
You are so beautiful, lovely love.
You remind me of a young goddess swinging around each of the other young stars
Someday to slowly dance into your own space
It’s always slow
Just look to the sky and ask
Where are you?
Because I’ve learnt the stars miss their charges
When their spark finds life elsewhere
I love you
You’re beautiful
You are beautiful
You’re unique
You’re you
Thank you for being you
Thank you for being here with me
-
Unlearning
The Queen said,
Fat, and unlucky. Terrible cook. Troublesome.
The things I have to do for you
And
Friendly reminder: Your being brings bad luck to those around you, making their lives worse.
The worst part is if I had told her she would have told me
Well, you agree
Of course I did I have the self-esteem of a rock thrown from the beach into the ocean forced to live among rocks I hadn’t seen for thousands of years that were once a part of me but don’t seem to be the same as me at all.
Sometimes I remember we’re all a part of the same
Distant
Bacterial ancestor
Sometimes people tell me I’ve improved their lives
And I don’t believe it because she told me
Every time something went wrong
It was either my bad luck, or her husband’s, which created the mishappening.
Its the little things we do that scar those around us
She was always criticising her breasts and despite the fact that I like them and voiced that often her own self hurting turned in and in her mind it was me who created it
Despite the fact that she used to bully me incessantly about being “flat as a board” and the various inbetweens.
Unlearning
Not going back to those times for advice or understanding because I know they lie
They all lie
Her and her clan
That I was unceremoniously removed from
Realising that trust is something given easily
And slowly but surely whittled away until it is a sharp stake
Which turns on its owner
And stabs directly into the chest
If I was a vampire this would be the fatal blow,
However since I am human I am immune.
Or so they say.
-
It’s an irony really
That I’m right
Because you’re right
Nothing will change if you never choose
But you wouldn’t choose
And you won’t choose
And the fact that simply choosing
Simply choosing
Could set you free
And you never even had to choose me
Elucidating Questions 