Ideas Draft 3
I'm pretty sure i used to be ok
I'm sure someone used to keep me safe
Maybe it was never there
Sure, that's gotta be the reason
But there has gotta be a time
When, presumably,
I thought it all worthwhile
If she always needed me,
Why fall apart now?
Just how much could one girl give?
And just how much can one boy take?
It hurt me as i watched her legs buckle
As she continued to try hard to smile
Perhaps it was really worthwhile
.
You Make Me Sick (Draft)
The panic reminds me of sick dizzy confusion,
Old migraine vomit and pain
The fear holds me tight as my eyes widen in horror
And I realise I cannot refrain
From recalling the times when everything turned to hate
It's all coming back to me now
The cuts and the scars, your caring abuse
The bullshit I somehow allowed
I knew it was coming, as my body fell over
Sick from the smell of stale piss
My stomach screaming at me, I wish to be numb
And hate my continued weakness
Those old metal bowls, in the public toilets
They're the places i hate to see most
Through tear soaked eyes there's a face wretching bile
Puke pouring all over my clothes
And i'm wishing to stop, let go of this life
That you beat into shape just for me
End this right now, pick off the old scabs
Start with a new memory
But the endless stream flows and my back's buckling now
I can't hold myself up for much longer
Thank you so fucking much for the twisted disease
You never knew you were feeding your daughter
.
Madelline (Draft)
She starts her day thinking
"Is this all there is?"
And falls asleep knowing the answer
The pills were meant to fill up the void
But only made things clearer
Whatever follows will never matter
What came before mattered just as little
She considers how horribly sad she would be
If only she could feel
In a short space of time everything she has done
Will all be completely pointless
All she can hope for is that when it does come
It will be relatively painless
"Make what you can of the time you have"
She lies to all who come near her
'Cause every single flower dies
Even plastic ones eventually wither
.
mirror eyes (Draft)
She likes to watch the people,
as they pass her by.
She likes to see their eyes flicker to each others,
she likes to watch them breathe.
She likes to see them smile,
and hug, and kiss,
she likes the contact and the comfort.
She likes to see when he buys her flowers,
and when she kisses him back, and he's happy.
She likes to watch the people.
Her only wish,
she tells herself,
is to get out there,
with all those pretty people.
Breathing with them,
moving with them, being with them.
She wants to meet the people who
will kiss her cheeks in greeting,
and the other people who will give her
Beautiful smelling flowers and creamy,
soft chocolates.
She wants to feel the warmth of each person
as they brush past her skin.
But she can't.
She shouldn't,
she knows she can't.
Tonight then, she prays.
Prays to be with the others,
to be part of it all.
Prays to be involved,
to be unified.
Prays to be able to touch them.
Because,
That's all she really wants.
Morning comes, she hopes she is free.
She hopes to be able to reach out to all of them.
She hopes that hope is enough.
She proceeds.
And, for the briefest of moments
She is able,
She feels her soul lift up high into the clouds,
with them all,
and finally feels unified.
But then she notices something strange,
something unusual,
something she's never noticed before,
through her mirror eyes.
She notices the tears of the people,
she notices the hurt on their expressions.
She notices the aimlessness of their wanderings,
And no longer is the drip-drip-dripping
of each tiny raindrop so exciting anymore,
no longer does she stand in awe.
She looks harder, but only seems
to push her people even more
from forms of beauty
to objects of selfish flesh and blood.
She realises how free she truly was before.
And all she can do is stand.
Night falls, and the groups disappear,
leaving the select few rushing
In and out of doors,
refraining to hesitate,
or even establish eye contact.
Waiting for someone to bring her the flowers,
to kiss her, to greet her;
Waiting for nobody, her tears fall from her cheek,
devouring her entity,
and no-one will stop to save her,
to help her,
to comfort her.
The sun makes it's return,
drying her icy tears,
hardening them against her flesh.
As dawn breaks, her very own wish
casts her into a stone casket
of solid sorrow,
and she becomes another statue,
another centre-piece
to brighten up
their self indulgent lives.
*Originally written 2005 for the journal 'everybody'
.
Bedazzled
It was the most striking sculpture he'd ever seen, curved to natural perfection, encrusted with dazzling jewels that lit up like tiny suns and mirror eyes that reflected the sorrow in his soul. He stood and stared in the middle of the street, captivated by this amazing figure of an immaculate person. It was so flawless it seemed alien, almost too attractive to be human. It stood proud like the most gorgeous of all heaven's angels, upon its pedestal and taking centre stage. The bewildering thing about it was that it could only have been crafted by the hands of peasants. There were no more artists in his world, only common folk who could never have poured into it the love that had shaped in such a splendid way... So how could it be so radiant? It was an irrelevant mystery. What mattered was that she was beautiful.
At first the boy paid short, infrequent visits, since he had other errands to attend to - commitments to friends and family, and a well-paying job - but as time progressed his passing-bys became sit-ins, as the rest of the world faded away and this incredible piece of art became everything to him.
The world seemed different now that she was in it. Unlike in movies and story books, where everything becomes bright and glowing when a character falls in love, his experience of life became grey and mundane beyond her.
He'd started out as a little distracted, but gradually, as his obsession grew, he became trapped in a downward spiral of self sacrifice and new scars. friends gradually merged into the fog that was his world beyond her. By the 3rd month of fantasy he'd stopped returning their calls, so they'd stopped making the effort of attempting contact. They could no longer connect with the dazed, absent boy they thought they once knew. His work faded away, he was fired after a week of no appearances, but he didn't care. He didn't even realise.
One night his need grew too strong, and he stole the statue away in the night. It seemed that nobody would notice, they never even paid attention to her. Now he was able to spend hours and hours at a time with his woman.
Sometimes she was warm to his touch, and he felt she loved him back. He could slide his hands across her curves and feel the connection between man and marble. Her warmth was a solace to him, it lifted him up and filled him with colour and life. But the longer he spent with her, the cooler she became. He thought to give her space, and left her, sometimes for weeks at a time, but when he returned she was colder than before. Soon it pained him to touch her, her frozen icy surface burning his skin. His hands became scabbed and scarred. But he refused to give up hope, and over the next month built a huge incubator for her. It was almost equal to her in it's exquisiteness, and he was very proud of himself when he completed her gift. He wrapped it around her, his great huge warming hug machine, but when he returned to her the next day he found, once again, she had not changed. She was not warmer. Puzzled, he decided his creation was surely faulty. He proceeded to craft an incubator that would be larger, better, and flawless. This task would take him years, building on what he'd already made until the hug machine dwarfed his object of worship. And for all his efforts he would suffer.
But still it made no difference, no matter how much he tried. He spent the rest of his life trying to warm her up, eventually dying in the process from exhaustion and malnutrition. It never once occurred to him that the cold was not coming from outside, that his own creation only served as a wall between him and the truth, and that no matter what he did, no matter how hard he tried to keep her warm, he could never change what she was.
.
Ideas draft 2
You wil be hesitant and i'll want to leave
You'll start the chorus and i will fall soon
As you pull me up to the surface to breathe
I'll drag you right down to drown with me too
I'm not really sure how to deal with this
Everything's slowly falling apart
Should she be hated or should she be missed?
What do i feel now, where do i start?
She curls back in disbelief and shock horror,
for what she thought was there appears to have grown
Does she know, at a time i did love her?
Before the blood dried up and the stitches were sewn?
Mother's Day
Fond memories of playparks
And theme parks and fun larks
And high times and hard times
That pushed away or helped to bind
And everything that helped to build
Or helped lift up or helped to heal
The moments that make up a life
Never forgotten, they keep us alive
Idea 1
Left on the edge where
Obsession lead to lust
and resentment
with dependancy
your endless misplaced trust
and lies
And what do you have to offer
but sin, on a plate
Gilded with the nectar
of pearls and crimes
Is it alright if i hide and go
Leave it alone when all gets too much
When the gun feels loaded
Is it ok if i cry
When you cut it again
After the punch
.
Dolphin Dreams (draft)
Dolphin dreams of
walking with people
It's on his to-do list,
high up there, with
befriend a shark
start a business
and write an autobiography
There's a fair bit to put into it:
he once dated a French girl,
and saw King Neptune in a restaurant.
Even knew Ariel
before she sold out to Disney
He reckons he's had a good life Few regrets
Still misses his French girl -
she left him for another European
But hey,
plenty more fish in the sea
Momentum Amounts to Memories (draft)
Dirty fingernails and twelve sweaty feet
Torn-up clothes, three cuts that weep
Quietly outspoken, the Man with the Plan
The night crashes down and falls asleep
She laughed so hard her make-up ran
I cried when she sighed and held my hand
Just so very happy, it was beautiful
She leant in close and said "everybody can"
Reading Hour
In pen and in pencil
Expertly arranged
Colourful monochrome
Drips from the page
Words and wisdom
Prose and rhyme
Climb inside someone's skin
Or a portal through time
floating (draft)
the image of desire painted slightly over sky
borrows sorrow from the memories scatered lightly over time
obsessions over silver skin and times when you were mine
but all that's left remaining is a self-destructive lie
the frantically demolished lie silent, cold and still
god cries out for all our pain but still allows us to feel
the beauty of destruction is the only thing that's real
truth is dead and bloodied while our scars will never heal
once upon a time was bliss but now we long to follow
across the oceans of embrace to meet again tomorrow
the distance is dust vapour and the heart is a black hollow
an empty sac of sadness that we're aching to just swallow
seduced at first by the promise of new life
the rebirth of old faces and a fresh will to survive
but all is lost when we slip up and no hope is left tothrive
now all that's left remaining is a self-destructive lie
Crib death (draft)
Wanting to be everything that she could
Knowing she's not, that she misunderstood
And all that she was is now left behind
And all she can do is crawl back and hide
Filling her warmth with left over spite
Giving her all in every last fight
It shouldn't be, shouldn't end up this way
Thought it was clear but she's been led astray
Cycles of doubt and furious rage
Blood splatters drip over her rusted cage
Never leave me again, she says to the next
Ignoring new holes on her aging neck
Sometimes she remembers what she used to dream
That one day she'd see all that she could be
But she'll disappear with no idea who she was
With nothing nothing to gain, nothing can be lost
[wrote on whichever meds came before depakote but after citilopram, explaining the lack of real passion]
Restraint
Your head feels bust
And your mouth tastes of rust
From blood gargled and spat out last night
And you want to cry
Feel so messed up inside
But everyone says it'll all be alright
It's hard to believe
When you're on your knees
And the faith and the hope have dried up
But you try to smile
In blatant denial
Of the fact that your heart feels tied up
A faint old tune plays
As you sleep through each day
In a bed made of ash, built for one
The drug is right there
But you feel too scared
Of twhat they'll say when they see what you've done
The pills should've helped
Instead you just felt
Like everything had become so much clearer
Waking each day
To suffer in vain
And ending it knowing the answer
Spontaneous thoughts
Outline in white chalk
The person they thought you could be
Inconsitency bends
Your image of strength
Always brings you back down to your knees
If you could just feel
If your wounds would just heal
Then it might disappear this time 'round
But dreams are all lies
And everyone dies
Nothing matters when you're underground
Congratulatory Poem for Helen
A moose sat upon a tall mountain and laughed
As if antlers and fur were the current new style
For although he was far from the trees and the grass
He heard you're getting married and there's reason to smile!
Savage Romance (draft)
The mechanics of desire never considered
That you may be required to be beaten down
And force-fed a farce of spit, spite and blood
Split into halves by a sick diseaseased clown
You were once a saint among so many black hearts
Looked so young as you waited in your tainted armour
So she argued with haste as you fell apart
An expectation misplaced by a misinformed father
After scripts burnt out and an awkward silence
Came a history of bouts in gloves dusted with dry ice
Your anxiety prevailed as the days turned into months
And your honesty soon failed as she lusted for those fights
A cruel kid with a penchant for misery and scars
But seductively painted with a face of fake charm
You shed your true tears for tragic circumstance
And built brand new fears for her own false harm
She was once taught like a child in a cast
People can be fought until they break or bend
Manipulation is the word that brings life to ugly masks
But if cannoot be heard and it cannot be read
An invalid arrangement so she'd feel strong
Mood swings and blind rage beat your ego to pulp
You can't deny you betrayed her 'cause she's never wrong
And all of her hurt was always your fault
(6th draft, 1st poem i've ever been proud of)
the invincible spongeboy! (draft)
Departue is the only resolve.
Nonetheless, persist to repair
Make all the effort, undergo and reform
Regardless of what seems just or fair
Counselling or therapy might change your state
She must do nothing, since you are the cause
She can scream and lash out, or spit in your face
You must be calm, silent and absorb
Act on her every impulsive whim
But not to such an extent as you do
Cause that would make you a coward and a wimp
Judge which was anger and which was true
Fury's a resort which serves well indeed
Although not for you, it's not your place
You should be worm and she should be queen
You should be grace and she can be hate
(built 22Mar08 from notes taken 28.05.04)
The All-Natural Orchestra! (draft)
We extemd to your person a grand invitation
To get down and boogie and dance to the rythm
Of a handcrafted mirrorball mosaic drum
So join in with us or take your well-urned turn
To entice all others and lead by the hand
A mish-mash of merrymen, an exciting new band
Of flip-flops and castles and sparkling glitters
And cherry-topped sundaes and pineapple fritters
And everyone smiley or with rugged hair
Dance in the streets and let others stare
Wear the robes of a queen, a monkey or a clown
And turn all those frowns right upside down!
(unfinished: complete version due for upload)
Just a Phone Call Away (draft)
You lean close and question, are you ok?
The first time you've asked in over a week
I'm quite fine i lie, and turn away
I feel bruised and ignored, i don't want to speak
I'm here if you need me, you quietly say
I look through you and ask you politely to leave
So i'm left alone, for another day
You can no longer offer the comfort i seek
[reconfiguration of previous poem written 2003]
Smiles (draft)
The stare at you with
Shattered window headlight eyes
In the shape of pig hearts,
Hands bloody with white lies
That they feed you and say,
"Might just hurt, but never kill"
Dripping cold, thick slime
From their fake scaled gills
And screaming orders the others
Shut up and obeyed
Pushing you to your knees
In the blood pools they've made
Faking reasons and excuses
That are born with no feet
And spitting through their teeth,
"Unique just means weak"