Archives for posts with tag: writing

I wrote in vacuum, blank to the race

Penelope’s loom that sets her own pace.

But now I hear you’re writing too.

Envy spurs me, the heel of your shoe.

I know you’ll steal these words from me

As you congeal my vocabulary

I’ll be washed up, lonely, left with the dredge

Boring, predictable, meat and two veg.

 

Or maybe it’s an image you’ll get to first

Burn it on retinas of all who thirst

For something new, like fresh green lettuce,

While I peddle yesterday’s fish gone fetid.

And once they’re tainted by your tongue

That’s over, finished, yes you’ve won

I’ll have to capitulate, surrender, renege.

Bow down, lose the encore, go backstage.

 

So I mourn the broken phrases and stanzas you’ve robbed

Clutching at remains, hand stump, as it throbs

Because that’s what you’ve done, taken my fingers

Slowly and deliberately, blunt safety scissors.

It’s rivalry, battle, we can’t coalesce

Purgatory, be damned if I acquiesce

So I won’t. I’ll use it, fuel for my tank

Grasp at the helm, wrench away from the bank

So leech me leech while I’m still in the shallow

Knowing you’re about just gives me more ammo

And I’ll write full of hatred and realise then

All this time, really, you’ve been my best friend.

 

 

  

Advertisements

I can let things go. Release them into the air like a butterfly; blow them away like a dandelion head. Words aren’t boomerangs, they aren’t sticks or stones or invisible forces like the arctic wind. They don’t come back and bite you. At least not if you’re holding them close.

This is for me, is it? Just because it’s pink

Rounded sides no sharp edges, did you ever think

That maybe I don’t want the same as every fucker here

Maybe I have thoughts as well, loud and crystal clear

Maybe I don’t ascribe colour to objects

Through a chance assumption of sex

Personification has gone too far

Boundaries and lines criss-cross like a scar.

 

Because you may have assigned the sheep to white,

The leaves to yellow and green

But from where I’m standing, from my sight

I do believe I’ve seen

A whole array of crayons before me

A whole lot of empty blank spaces

So tell me who are you, sincerely,

To officiate on all these cases

 

So I can paint the star yellow if I want to

Or green or pink or blue

Because following reality can be fun

But fencing it around won’t do.