Magic

Magic.

It's hard.

No. Hard won't do.

Magic burns.
It pulls you out from inside.
It rips your dreams to pieces.
It makes every moment seem like a price.
You lose heart.
You lose faith.
You lose eyes.

And then...

You do it all over again.

People think magic is an answer. It isn't.
It's a means.
The most difficult means.

People think magic is a cure.
It's not.
It's the medicine.
Strong and dark and bitter.

People think magic makes it all go away.
It doesn't.
It makes it all come back.
Every heart-bloodying,
vein-wrenching,
flesh-rending
moment.

It will make you cry,
It will make you bleed,
It will make you scream,
and that will be the easy part.

Magic.

It's violent,
and bloody,
and painful.

And...

most of all...

without a doubt...

beyond imagining...

Worth it.

the problem is...

the problem they say is that language is never really enough...it never truly explains or shows...

so how then are we able to communicate what we feel and see and are? how do i make my world real to you and those i cherish...there is never really enough of anything around for me to show you how i see you or my world...i can never truly share what i see...i see a field of blue mingled with a piercing tapestry of greys and black which collect in a bubble of white in a sky that is not my own...that is what i see and yet there is more that i can never truly share with you...please forgive me .... i am trying... am i getting through?

i wish you well*

Gleetings from the Gloaming

:)
I appear to be here too, now. I have no new poetry, but here's a little one I wrote when I was in my first year. I used to be sure it was about someone I was in love with, but I think it might actually be about my sister.

"Asleep, you are curled like a question mark.
I want to be the only answer you'll ever need."

Ja. It's simple as all hell, but I laaaaaaaik it.

Red

Red
like blood,
or beauty.
a hood of satin
(they never tell you that in the stories)
a hood of desire.

wolves
the danger is not their teeth.
it's their words,
their eyes,
green, bright lights in a forests,
like will o' the wisps
leading you onwards
upwards
heavenwards.

Red
like beauty,
like joy,
the magic of a wolf's words.

woodcutters
safe, and quiet.

entirely ordinary.

"stay on the path"

No.
Give me that forest floor.
Give me that dappled shade.
Give me the wild running.
Give me the red satin.

seeing

I saw him across a room, nothing new.
Yet when I looked this time something had changed.
Either he or I were not the same, but something had changed.
Either he or I were still the same, but something had changed.

I stood and looked to find a difference.
I stared, I watched, I waited.
In that moment we joined souls to be one.
In that moment he was mine and I his.
In that moment I saw the change was a simple one.
A quick shift in light, too slight to notice but still there.
I saw him and he saw me and together we saw a future none can render true or false.

(let me know what you think girls...and boys...mwa*)

Well-spoken man...

(this will probably make absolutely no sense to the majority of people but I know some of you know the feeling - and it's not for anyone in particular, it's about the phenomenon!)

Begin, a little humour,
slowly reel them in,
then laying out your structure
gentle ease on, to begin.
Begin with your rebuttal,
tearing strips, always polite.
Give your argument a title,
always subtle, always right.
With a deft and clever wordplay,
bring your first to a close
but be humble, yet to win the day,
no time to strike a pose…
Follow swifly, two more arguments,
each more lovely than the last,
like an expert going in to fence.
Then summation, hard and fast.

As you walk away to sit down,
your audiences awash,
poet, statemen, wise one, clown,
with just a little dash…
Adjudicators flushed
Audience breathes deep
Nothing quite so sexy
as a Man who can Speak.

how do i?

how do i give you forever? how do i make this all worthwhile?
i don't know how any of this is supposed to work.
no one has given me a handbook...no memo was circulated. i am lost

yet there you are sitting across from me wanting forever...wanting my all and wanting to give me everything that is yours to give.
how do you do it? how do you make it seem so easy
and why can't i be in that place of faithful and care free caring?

how do i join you? how do i show you that i want to be with you?
how do i give of myself and yet not lose myself in all that is you?
i can't... i won't... it is impossible.
but i hope...i pray that one day you will realise that this is nothing to do with you.
this is simply my fear, my self loathing sinking me deeper into a pit i can't leave.


and i love you too much to make you join me.
that is how i do this...it is why i do this and that is the only reason that matters.

You ride me like patriarchy (on Zuma) by Amy Shelver

You ride me like patriarchy
And I moan, I moan, I moan.
I am a thousand women
Bound to the leather of your couch
Thrust in-between this and the next
Playing second fiddle to the pouch,
Oh, oh, oh, ouch.
Put it there again.
You know I like it, fuck yes
Fuck no, it’s coz I got no where to go.
At pleasures moments notice
You’re up and leaving, I’m just arriving.
It’s rude, but not as rude as this.
My voice is drown out by
The shudder swimming down your spine
And I’m gagged, this time, and the next,
Fuck yes.
You know the score coz that’s all I am.
I’m left dripping you…
A secret combination for an every-lock
The chicken comes home to roost.
And a thousand women just like me
Flash through my mind,
Row upon row, the gag-rag
Reflecting the carriage of patriarchy
Can’t you see?
Riding from up there,
Stampeding through the ripening crop
How you ride my womanhood
The crusader, SS, militia, the cop
The daunting everyman should.
It’s still the same love and patriarchy
It’s still the same you and me.
I moan, I moan, I moan.
Rape is different when it’s everyday.
In every place and every way.
And we are tired, and fired.
These gags and the gag is on you.