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Category Archives: Poetry

He’s old -middle aged-
and he sits on a plastic white
garden chair, at the end of your street.
You’ll see him with a cigarette-
most hours. But the man has
no legs.

Half-limbed, semi skimmed
his stumps raise red as he stubs
his cigarette. And you wonder
why he chooses the flames on his
lips, the power – to turn the tables-
lights to his fingers
-he holds on longer than he has to.

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Onder Meer (Among others)

There’s a patch of burnt grass,
Still blackened by the sausage rolls
We set alight when we were
Fourteen years old.
By the Beck, our prepubescent
Hand holding professed  a love
Now lost.  But still I hold
Onto the memories like a tree
Clings to its leaves-
-They twist
And fade
And somehow fall
Away.

I hear our laughter
When I see the burnt patch,
But I cannot place our faces
And I cannot taste  the  ash.

I am  a  world of many worlds,
And though I am no longer
A fourteen year old girl,
I am the smoke – the embers- of
All I have ever known.

This poem was written for a friend who’s putting together an anthology based on the significance of one’s home.

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The  single-sided handkerchief,
damp and crisp.
Folding,
against the white
of my skin,
and think- just think-
of bliss.

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Cry me a pigeon
And spread your filthy wings.
I heard the others whispering
When the proud dove sings.
Oh, in the sky,
What a sight!
When the filthy birds shadow
Twelve arrows of white.

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If I am to love only once,
Let it be with you-
For the Sun shines out your ass
And from your mouth- the moon.

I’ll call you a Summer’s day
And you will call me a silly cunt,
Waking in a puddle of your drool
With a glare, a middle finger, a grunt-

In bed with our socks on,
Stroking the hairs on our legs
Like stray animals on our sheets-

I am to love only once.

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In my dreams we kiss and  love
And in my nightmares
I wake up.

In my thoughts you’re  close and near
But beside  my aching  flesh
You are not here.

Will there be a day when
This torment ends
In my whimpering soul,
Or am I  now
But half of a whole?

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This is just a silly lovesick poem along with the product of my attending life-drawing classes!


I was your rabbit in a hat,
A tumbling joy, enigma.
Smiles for the camera.

I was sawn in half.
Snapped by a wand,
Bound to a box
In a lover’s con.
I was your stack of cards,
towering
unto a crowd
That couldn’t help
But knock it down.
(This is a poem that attempts to capture the stages of a false and controlling relationship)

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Equally false is my snazzy new blue wig!



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