early…

while the sky is still struggling to find its blue,

and the sun’s blushing orange is barely peeking through

the pillow soft clouds asleep on the hills,

before it is time to stress about bills.

while lights are still twinkling

and most are still sleeping

and traffic is only joggers and trucks,

before tossing is walking

and snoring is speaking

and the world starts demanding more than 2 fucks

before coffee and facebook

and news and toast

and pants and skirts and shoes.

before crucial details

and snarky emails

about monday, tuesday, wednesday blues.

before sweat on your brow,

and pain in your back,

2 o’ clock slumps

and afternoon snacks.

before cellphones and ringtones,

and the triteness of being grown,

and all this learning to just make do.

before garbage and grocery

and dinner and laundry

polite conversation

and pointless flirtation

before good mornings

and while you’re still yawning

with the creases of sheets

impressed on your face.

while your eyes are still heavy

and your voice still raspy

and your bladder still full

of last night’s booze.

while your breath still stinks

write


i once knew a woman…

she could turn stones into water with the soles of her feet.

and make life out of dust with each breath that she breathed

all ears tilted up when her tongue hit her teeth

and all throats opened gag-less for guts to receive

her words smooth like porridge, heavy, warm and sweet

could stick to your bones and bring the ground to your knees

she could reach her tongue into every crevice of your being

and kiss away pain you were too hurt to feel.

at night while you awaited the sun’s mocking of your dreams

her eyes would find light in the shadows of the trees

her fingers tapped softly to the beat of the breeze

and she would carve tender promise from desperate screams.

the sweat from her palms was all that she’d need

to break fevers on foreheads too used to concrete

the lilt of her voice begged death reprieve

and life was an idea she could you make you believe

she occupied the space between captive and free

spread thick across the chasm from common to unique

she would bare her chest and bid all to feast

on the sacred victuals minds could never conceive

with her nose to the sky and the earth at her feet

she would whisper above voices only heard when they speak

‘there is no difference between insane and complete,

what you think you know is only what you perceive’


good morning

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

wake

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 
wake
laughing
the 
day 
is not yet
broken

concrete

concrete
 
 we must not remember -
concrete devours joy.
smoke kisses you
and angels are born
from fever and salt.
seeing dirt desires life
you and i, 
but
fools,
trust 
that only oceans are blue.
colour
is old magic,
homeless
in our steel universe
 

dancing

dance

here

i

linger

dancing

like

breath

is

brilliant

poetry


secret cloud

secret cloud


lie
naked
upon
my
secret
cloud
smoke
salt
and
kiss
sacred
steam
trust
our
lives
only
to
fire

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


flowers

flowers

fevered
and
laughing
you
and
i
make
flowers
out of
broken
glass


Follow

Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.

Join 984 other followers