Sewing trails of love into fertile soil

Hey, I see a universe in you
– and together we be a multiverse

It’s like all the clocks in the world stop ticking,
every grain of sand turns to glass,
and the sun and the moon blink at each other just for a moment,

When I close my eyes and think of you,
I envision these endless plains of calm,
forests full of library shelves
and seashores where every gain of sand
is a whisper of kindness.

I daydream about us and road trips. Beach picnics. Spoken word. Talking late. Staying up. Laying down. Holding fast. Fucking slowly. Feeling rainforest rain on our brows. Giving each other reasons to raise them.

Ever noticed that butterflies are considered beautiful yet
moths are considered terrifying
but the butterflies you fill my stomach with
scare me more than any number of moths flitting toward a light ever could,

what I’ve found in myself for you,
is a kind of undoubtable love.
It just is. It’s just there. No name. No conditions.
No metaphors or comparisons.
Just, love.

I know you have to go away,
but while you’re still here I really want to do my best to help make what we share so full of fun and good memories, growth and happiness.

Maybe it’s the echo of a heart shattering in an empty hallway,
the memory of a loved one’s last embrace
or the taste of a lover’s last kiss,

catching passed glimpses of life before it’s lost
reminds us we can step inside them again
when we’re feeling lost,
nothing disappears
things just dissipate to infuse the world around us,
some things linger on

take the sleeve of my jacket
tuck it away, in your pocket,
feel my warmth on your skin
when I’m no longer around,
taste my kiss just a little while longer,
I promise I’ll keep you warm inside
even if it means we don’t share the same the same ground

Dissolving sandcastles

he said it hurts me too, yet
why am I the one always crying in front of you,
he said he cries in private, why
must I always be the one whose knees weaken and eyes glimmer
at your alter
I pray to you
and it’s not healthy,
weaning off you
your love is the most difficult substance to ease off of
teacherous lips, shh
just for a second,
I want to kiss you but it stings like poison nettle
prickles,
lingers, flickers but doesn’t extinguish,
burning, burning,
gets easier with time and distance, or so I keep repeating,
altered conversation, less affection,
this is good, this is painful,
those tender almonds peer into my oceans
I can’t contain the waves convulsing inside me,
I can’t keep building sandcastles without moats, around me
the grandiose structures keep dissolving,
he clasps my hand in his,
finger tips caressing my aching ligaments,
your pure feelings are tainted by my confusion
I think I love you but how can I be sure this is not another of my illusions,
to grasp onto you is to grasp onto the thing I can never hold onto,
we can’t hold onto ideas, it’s just that
sometimes we think we can —
when those ideas take form, a light beam projecting onto foreign flesh
we get excited and forget
what we see is what we feel,
our deepest desires manifest and we follow them like breadcrumbs leading to a fantastical house
but you are not home and I must learn to crawl out of your inferno
before our illusions swallow us whole,
I think I love you but
how can I be so sure that your sweetness isn’t tainted by loneliness,
I want to hold your hand when we walk along the promenade,
I want to link arms as we wander and discuss the stars
we’ve gone too far
merged our hearts
before we allowed our minds to entangle in a rapture of seeing beyond our own lenses
of wanting
life to be simpler than it ever could become
without the rapture of romance I finally see you
I’m starting to understand what you are, who you are becoming,
it took us more months than we’d like to admit to
scrub the sand from our eyes and blink into clarity,
disparate continents and tired thumbs
phone calls and text messages mask
the nuances,
can’t be technologically translated,
no tonal button that erases misinterpretation
you must say what you mean
or be done with it,
back in your arms
your laughter echoes as if it’s escaping shackles and chambers,
the curvature of your back to your butt makes me want to reach out and touch you
yet our separation separates our forms of expression
it hurts not to kiss you
but it would hurt more to reduce this bond we are reconfiguring
into a breath,
not now
but
maybe someday
I’ll feel your lips on mine and it’ll taste like honeydew and rosewater
like it did in the beginning

Sarajevo ricochet remembrance

You can still hear the echoes of screams emanating from the parks and buildings
Rattling the bridges,
Drilling through cement
Bullet holes and residual gun powder
Falling in the dust
Blood stains filled in with paint
Held as a reminder, kept as a signifier of the new found freedom of an independent state
To know unrest was no more than 25 years ago
A siege of three and a half years
Living in constant fear
The unknown interrupted with bullet shells
Bombs falling from the sky
Into civilian homes
Echoing through the fresh graves at a funeral
death becomes more death
and life is a constant question mark,
in the name of power and national identity, in the name of financial security,
civil unrest and vague border lines
It seems long ago and alien
Until
you see it,
Until
you meet those that crawled along the border line
into the mountainous forest
to fetch water and medical resources,
until
you speak to those who lived through this
who saw their family and friends laying in a pool of blood on the cement,
sniper bullets pinging off buildings like an arcade game,
bullets shooting out from fighter planes embedding into forgotten flesh
grenades breaking through the ground like man-made metiorites
this was a war on civilians,
a genocide against non-Serbs and “traitors” of a nationalistic military regime
to claim land that is united by peace rather than ethnicity,
to claim more than what is served
in pursuit of dominating
separates people from humanity
to laugh in the face of a deluded pursuit is how sarajevo survived
after 1,452 days of Serbian military besiegement

Bad feelings aren’t always bad

My soul shudders when I keep it in a cage,
every day I’m getting closer to keeping out in the fields
away from the steel bars and heavy locks,
at first freedom can feel like torture
after you’ve imprisoned yourself for too long,
I don’t like this feeling
but I take it in, it reminds me that I’m as human as you,
it doesn’t feel stable
it just feels clearer than stuffing it behind mental bars,
Cat Power is on my shoulder,
whispering husky reminders that we can only be free once we crank open our metal-heart-cages and listen to our insides,
I trail through the valleys
of far-away plains
that much of the world has forgotten about,
you wouldn’t know it unless you looked up,
amongst these narrow, hollow barrels of lost signals
there’s a starry night sky,
and we all share the same light,
peering through our own eye capsules,
rocketing through our own plains,
I guess I missed the road sign
that told me to turn left,
makes my head twist
pulls my neck away from myself,
these days I seem to trail on, sometimes for too long,
but I see more than if I’d stayed on the Google-maps-path
of life choices
and chronological societally-normal
trigger points of study, work, house and what ever follows after that,
makes me yawn before I even finish considering it,
my instincts tell me it’s all rubbish anyway,
see the tea that drips from the strainer,
I want to taste every drop
without having to clean up the dried leaves and forgotten fragments
of a passed day
so I’m learning to compile all the lost files and process them through the shredder in my brain,
to manouver the obstacles as they come my way,
so that they’ll stop
tainting today,
clouding the way,
I don’t like this feeling,
I just prefer it more than being numb.

Midnight silhouettes

Do you need footsteps clicking beside you to remind you that you have friends,
did that last text message need to be sent,
when was the last time you checked in with yourself
before 3am,
mental breakdown-hour
mind-apocolypse,
it seems too easy to say that we were only ever friends
I guess it depends on what you do between the sheets
and we just shared each other under the layers,
no whispering of secret truths,
just dreamt out our insides side by side night after night,
it seems too simple to say that we forgot the most important dates of the year,
each day leaks into the next and we remember only when it’s too late to rehash who we were,
and what does it matter,
the things we told each other before we slipped into our midnight silhouettes,
you only say half of what you mean,
leave me guessing in between,
always something left unsaid
from both ends,
you don’t drink anymore,
said it was much too easy to drown your thoughts than let them out,
breathe in toxic chemicals that extinguish the burning neurons,
I’m left alone on the dancefloor when you’re too afraid of your mind to let me in,
it seems impossible to know
and guessing never helps,
the drizzle in the phone connection disperses the transgressions we tried to spear with our tongues
and lick off each others’ lips,
we told each other every secret we’d ever bundled inside ourselves
except the centrefold of our hearts,
you could never say we were only ever friends.

United States of Ventriloquists

​These circulating fish have teeth now and they know how to bite,
these rules have got us now and the keys are out of sight,
the Rothschild family is bathing in gold,
while bombs are dropping in Africa and the middle east,
blockades stomping over peace,
sending the best cameras and microphones and robotic reporters
to tell us that Africa and the middle east aren’t safe but the us will fix it,
the Western world grows from the seeds of fear and greed
supplanted by a poisoned seed,
believing that it must be Africa and the middle east that are the danger to ye,
Mk-ultra drilled through the left side brain of society,
we’re on the verge of an insidious WW3.

Blinded to see that the real enemy is
one part complacency
two parts widespread denial of logical conspiracies.

It’s all a game
back and forth,
weave around and take out the pawns,
can no longer hide behind the “I vote” stickers of a false democracy,
horses and sheperds in their high castles
guard the ivory towers that keep the powerful wealthy and the majority deceived,
pay attention to them not those in the pent houses, not those on TV.
Check mate.
We’re here again,
swimming with piranhas and hungry sharks,

there are more than two choices
there are more than two choices
there are more than two choices,

if you want to be free you must admit to yourself
that the reality you revel in is only an illusion,
everything is an illusion,
as long as you are aware of that, you can change the illusion.

Trust the media as much as you trust the government.
Do your research. Learn history from many perspectives.
Listen to the unpopular opinion.
Let’s not divide, nor condemn,
let’s stand by each other.

Instant Gratification

Are we a generation strung out on convenience?

instant gratification

listless, always craving

a couple pills

and a cap,

let’s get some drinks

and some shots,

a heavy base line,

latching onto the cages,

we let the DJ

shake us

and we don’t even like this music,

but tonight we don’t care.

Slip another

gotta feel this,

not even hiding the treats we keep,

like I’m blind –

blindside me

so that I wake up in a daze

forgetting the reasons for resorting

to snorting the praise of strangers

and rebelling against all authority,

that’s something I never did,

just to save this sense of a personal sanctuary

that’s really just a self-made prison,

thrashing against guards

that are trying to protect me from myself.

Getting kicked out

but we still crave the pills.

Slip another

so disoriented

is this real, what is really real?

we’re all in our own cages

trying to unlock the padlocks

through body contact

and head massages,

cheeky glances,

having several impassioned conversations

all at once.

Trying to find that blissful place

in synthetic –

one click, one grin, two wink

– tricks.

We lost track

but kept at it

Floating down the halls

feeling ourselves

feeling the walls

sinking into the thick cushions

of these second – third – tenth – hand couches

rolling into the bathroom

girls tripping off

each others’ outfits and hair

and shit they don’t even really care about,

seeing flashing colours

discussing space invaders,

Where the cold tap water feels like silk,

We push through the portal,

meet your mates again,

Grab ’em by the hand,

It’s all a blissful haze, 

Give ’em a kiss,

Never too close when we’re on this,

We’ll go exploring

for more more more.

Self-forgiveness is a game of tug o’ war

  
My heart aches for

Your beautiful soul

‘Cause you’re going through hell

and yet you persist,

With humour and zeal

even when you’re up

against strong opposition,

So much pain crammed

and locked in your heart,

Mostly to protect those who trespassed against you,

Rather than to resuscitate yourself, 

It hangs over me, so heavy,

That then it was I

that became the main source of your pain,

The night I became the world’s worst best-friend.

Somehow you forgave me,

Well,

At least that’s what you said.

Got Jeff Tweedy on my stereo,

Singing broken-hearted lullabies

that ring at the door of my house,

Can you hear it,

from your side of town?

There’s so much I wish I could take back,

‘Cause I knew what’d been going down

around us,

Preceding the storm that hit

the night

I swallowed my pride and coughed it up on that boy’s bed,

In front of you,

and pressured you to come along,

Yeah you were right there beside us

And yet we carried on,

Neglecting the fact

That you just needed my shoulder

To rest your muddled head upon

and my ears to listen 

to you process life

when you were feeling less than alright,

Now I’m eternally hoping

that you’re as okay as you say. 

Thanks For The Consent

Politicians got us fearing who we are,

telling us who we can love –

and who we can’t

progressing institutionalised crimes

while they coerce the news-verse

telling us about taxes and the stock market

and Abbott says he’s “feeling threatened”

by our confusing sexual tastes,

and the gender of the gender of the person

we take an interest in.

J-Bishop throws in her two cents as if the LGBT

community is waiting for her consent,

just another political maneuver

talking about the lives of others

for their own rise,

reporters swallowing the words

and churning ’em out

as front-page headlines,

what kind of progress does that provide?

Nothing.

This isn’t a Rugrats plot line

where Suzie reclaims justice

and destablises Angelica’s lies.

Real life isn’t so simple,

a cycle we can’t seem to rattle,

Abbott talking about tradition

as if we’re all going to hell,

keeping a stronghold on a patriarchal-field,

that unsettling wink-gate,

laughing at the so-called sins

borne out of the big guys’ own cycle,

laughing at the very way,

the people that don’t have a say

are trying to pay

for the things the politicians regulate,

Don’t talk about sex,

if you’re not willing to hear of

all the many contexts that it affects,

that simple, single – wink,

en-massed a range of riddles,

and we ask,

what should we be sacrificing,

to avoid the jobs your sacred book despises,

“food, electricity, gifts for christmas, firewood,

or should we all just die and get outta your way?

should we just repress our ways

and follow your confined field of vision,

just so that you do not feel threatened?

Just to uphold an archaic cookie-cutter society,

Repressed and numb,

cut-off and confused.

What I See When I See You

In a world that keeps telling me

To move faster

Do more

Be more

Make a name for myself

Check all the boxes

Keep up appearances

And always be “just fine”

In this same world, I saw you,

An escape from that frightful cycle

You were there, living for the moment,

Soaking up the melodies

Of this sick sick beat

And it made me look within myself

And reach inside my chest,

And as my whole body opened

I let the air breathe through my lungs,

Yeah, cause you do this thing to me

That gets me all muddled up

Where my heart beats so fast

I feel like I’m going to choke it up

Then other times my heart just pounds and pounds and aches in my chest

Oh, but I can’t stand the games my head plays with my heart

The half-broken bones and torn ligaments

Make it hard for you to hold me

But I want you to hold me,

I want you to make me feel whole

Cause I think I’m getting sucked in

And I can’t pull myself away,

Will you pull me away

From my fear-driven plight

And into the freedom of your self-made life…