17
When I was 17my mother said to me,“Don’t stop imagining. The day that you do is the day that you die.” -17, Youth LagoonOcie Elliott — 17 (Youth Lagoon cover) – YouTube Continue reading 17
Category: poetry
the night and its secrets
this night does not hide my secrets. it is far too full with secrets of its own. with illicit affairs and the weight of unsaid words. the air is soaked with the lingering warmth of sweet bodies, with the soft exhalations of whispered words. it is muted by the passing cadence of a broken highway that hums like the falling of sea on sand – … Continue reading the night and its secrets
time/ribbons
a haloed body through frosted glass. like a painting, far away through boiled cabbage leaves. tape-bound bodies haloed in sugar-sweet windows. brokenness bound mended melted. the seams of our souls in technicolour, through yellowing film like teeth. like piss. hidden clocks. everywhere everywhere, as gold-tipped tassels fight the tick tocking time with raindrop love. ribbons, ribbons, ribbons. a cabbaged halo. a frosted body. a piss-toothed … Continue reading time/ribbons
an old hurt
It’s one of those old hurts. A moon-shaped crevice dug into the skin, a bit lumpy and scarred over in dark pigment. It is mostly dormant. But on the occasion that it is awakened, the hurt is just that: occasional. It is the hurt of a light scratch over a an old scar. A surprise graze, brushing past the corner of a table, making an … Continue reading an old hurt
balloon
on the curling wind it floats by upwards and upwards beyond, to great things – only to burst as it reaches the sky but at least it saw the treetops and at least it met the clouds… Continue reading balloon
dreams
we build our dreams childlike fantasies. versions of life that propel and inspire. what hurts the most isn’t the unattainable fantasy but the almost real. within reach. close enough to touch. mirages. that slip through our fingers like rock turned to sand and so, we pick ourselves up and start again. Continue reading dreams
someone i don’t know
you look different did you cut your hair? it seems like forever since i saw you last. there’s makeup on your face and you’re in a pink leather skirt but you never used to dress up. i guess you grew up, or something like that. your laugh. it sounds different louder higher not like you i guess i smile and make jokes … Continue reading someone i don’t know
where’s the coffee?
The cup was yours this morning. It’s funny how it’s yours one day and mine the next. Coffee and tea, tea and coffee. A small clay creation – a model of those little white porcelain ones you get with your jasmine tea at a yum cha. But this one is different. Misshaped and glazed with an array of colours that don’t go well together. The … Continue reading where’s the coffee?
alone
Do you ever feel alone? Just lonely. And still, cocooned by the chatter and the noise and the laughter. But disjointed, disconnected. People. Like weak magnets drawn together by nothing but an arbitrary, imaginary force. Perhaps the most significant imaginary force to ever believe in. But still, inevitably, we are separate. Our worlds unshared, unknown, untouched. Do we share them? Some magnets … Continue reading alone
asleep
It rises and falls like the tide on the sand A weight of black steel pressing down Strangling, drowning And my heart treads the water, but it’s too much to ask I’ve sunk into a slumber And there is no awakening. Continue reading asleep
the undergrowth. 