a pretty good show

Some say you got a purdy mouth
but your mind just don’t match that ideal
Due to that inner ugly
your friends are fairweather
your enemies circling from a safe distance
waiting on that sweet smell of blood
signalling your defeat

How does it feel
the sensation of so many innocent skulls
crushed beneath your heedless heels? 

How does it feel
knowing one day you’ll fall
from that lovely ladders of yours
into an anonymous grave? 

Not a soul will be stirred to mourning
Some may even be grateful

Since you left

Since you left
I've moved through seas

Since you left
I've climbed mountains

Since you left
I've found all the edge pieces

Since you left
I've ditched the dead weight

Since you left
I've shared smiles and tears

Since you left
I've learned to be alone again

Since you left
I've realised that I'm better off without

But it doesn't mean I don't still miss you
Since you left.

the earth is not flat

There are thousands of miles
thousands of images
thousands of sights and smells
foreign to your shrinking self-centric reality
playing through my memory
rolling along the curve and flex
of my tongue 

You quake
at the vast prism of humanity
while I seek out the corners
the edges
the defining parameters
that play out in a Vennic exactitude
hinting of chaos

I crave flavour and sensation
like you crave white bread and vanilla cake

Bring me your multitudes
so I might take them by the hand
guide them around the bend in the road
across the mountains
towards a different potentiality

Breaking point

Somewhere
between the shore and sky
the trees devour the ocean waves
give way to wind song
dancing through their limbs

The flux of tree and wind
water and current
could be that of a two sided mirror
assuming the barrier between elements
the crash deafening
from either perspective

If only we could breathe water
feel the tumble and smash
of elemental division

If only we could frolic in the breeze
like a leaf
being caressed on every side
dare to take the risk
of falling
into the whim of the wind.

With the tide

In the early morning light
the water undulates
dark with mystery

The waves break
in jagged crests
roll on unperturbed
a long held note
moving from shore to shore
between two islands

Death is not an impossible ending
for any souls
on this journey

The depths are teeming
with crocodile tears
and hungry mouths
ignorant of satiety

This is known
yet we ride on
bobbing insignificant on the surface
vessel pointed
in the general direction
of our assumed destination

Will we reach the shore or
will we continue on
seeking out that mirage
that future promise of
certainty?

Memory, that traitorous bitch

It’s been years since I was open to the vulnerability of being in a relationship with someone else.  I haven’t seen that person in almost six years.  But there’s someone in my new office that looks so much like him.  Every time I see this new person I feel myself drawn to him, even though we’ve sat in the same office together but never exchanged a word.  I know it’s only because of the superficial similarities to someone I thought I once loved, but I can’t help but wonder.  If we shared the same language, if we could easily communicate, would I be less frightened of the possibility of being hurt again?  Would I give this new person a chance?  Would he even be interested in my quandary?  

Love may be a many-splendored thing but it’s also equivalent to mental abuse.  

The high and the low of mind-altering drugs.  

He likes crossword puzzles… this new person… 

I like crossword puzzles too.  Is that enough to start a conversation over?  

You know, the answer to Four Across is what brings most women pure joy.  Maybe we could sample some together?  No… I’ll just go to my house, have some carrots, and cozy up to the lovely paper smell of… my electronic book reader.  That seems like such a strange thing to miss, but I miss the smell of books.  Such a simple luxury.  And less complicated than the tangled web of my own human interactions.  It's much more pleasant to read about someone else's misery and joy.  I will stay safe in my box of my own creation, safe from pain.

Safe from ... 

girl

little girls should be seen and not heard
be silent and spread your legs
they say
because girls should be making babies
and dinner
girls don’t need to understand numbers
that’s man’s work
girls don’t need to understand cars
that’s man’s work
girls don’t need to understand science or mechanics or brain surgery
that’s man’s work
girls need to get married and find a man
someone needs to take care of them
they can’t do that themselves
because they need to concentrate on
taking care of man
and children
and parents

little girls should be pretty and clean
not playing in the mud like a dirty boy
not turning ratchets or fixing leaks or changing tires
that’s man’s work
ugly girls
chubby girls
it’s ok for them to be the subject of jokes and harassment
there’s no point in raising aggrievances to the authorities
because no one’s going to believe them
and everyone’s going to laugh at them
so best to be quiet
stay in the corner
because no one wants to see them or hear them

little girls should be should be helpless and weak
so a man can take care of them
don’t carry that weight
that’s man’s work
don’t be so muscular
that’s man’s work
never be strong or
try to show others
they can take care of themselves
the world will accuse them of trying to be boys
because the worst insult for a boy is to be called a girl
and the worst insult for a girl is to be called a girl
pretending to be a boy
because no one could actually want to look like that
girls like pink and dresses and soft things
boys like blue and shorts and hard things
because boys aren’t supposed to be soft
and girls aren’t supposed to be hard