the park swing

 

Fists holding surely
That metal chain;
The smell of life
Emanating from within.

Feet firmly anchored
In the sand by the balls.
Knees buckled;
You’re at the edge of your seat.

Ready for take-off!
Fall slightly backward
As your toes look skyward,
Aiming higher than you dare.

Catch a flash of sun
Like a glint of magic,
Before you fall back down
For an anxious second.

Proactive feet
Propel you again.
Dreamward. Forward.
Skyward once more.

The high is addictive.

The rest of your body
Now join forces
To attain by all means
Its communal goal.

“Aim for the sky
and land on the roof”.

Higher and higher,
Dodging the rooftops.
Higher and higher,
Till there’s nothing but white.

A blinding and piercing
Yet calming bright light.

The higher you fly
The greedier you get,
And as it’s commonly known,
The harder you’ll fall.

Still you push harder,
Having now tasted freedom.
Your needs and wants
Now completely indistinguishable.

Chasing a high
That’s chased by a low
Lower than any
You’ve ever known.

Up then down.
Inhale. Exhale.
Your chest full and then emptied
Of life and hope.

The sun has set.
Your spirit is weary.
You slowly touch down
In the sand where you started.

On the ground where you belong.

Aim for nothing
And stay where you are.

Your soul bereft
Of a will to live.

Fists fall slack
Off that metal chain;
The smell of death
Emanating from within.

dear departed

Things end.
That’s just how it is.

Holding on.
Weak arms as always.
Gravity mocking
The body’s betrayal,
Taking first
The trickle of red
Involuntarily given
Of fingers white.

The heart escapes
Beneath the gut.
Vacating the house
Where he once lived.

Vacant for Demolition.
The balance is off.

Hope steadily dimming.
Resolve depleted.

Think not. Feel not.
Let go now.
It’s just an end.
Life does go on.

Shameful arms
Surrender feebly.
The descent begins.
No ground below.
Limbs flailing
To scrambled instructions
In this unending free fall.

But
Things end.
That’s just how it is.

This ends.

chocolate

Chocolate,
Dark and strong,
Warm and comforting.
I know you’re not good for me,
But then I want you so much more.

Chocolate,
Dense and rich,
Sweet and sinful.
An addiction I must break
If I’m looking out for myself.

Chocolate,
I had too much
And now you’re gone.
I tell myself I’m clean again.
I tell myself, it’s according to plan.

I’m rid of you.
You’re rid of me.
Your taste will be forgotten.
New fingers will caress your grooves.

Chocolate,
I love you.

Chocolate,
I’m sick of you.

Chocolate,
I devoured you.

You changed my body.

Chocolate,
We love not each other
But our selfish selfish selves.

Chocolate.
We are the same.

We deserve this pain.

the 8th of March

I am human,
He is too.
They don’t believe me,
And his word is gospel.

I push hard against the walls
Of this glass box they’ve built.
Escape seems possible
For a few lying seconds.

I shout out real words!
They smile, amused.
They hear but won’t listen,
To logic and reason.

See-through and sound-proof.
Must be seen and not heard.

I am woman.
He is man.
Both of us human.
I understand.

But here I am in this case made of glass,
While you carry on pretending
To fiercely protect, to madly love,
To truly care

For me.

Your world; your oyster.
Mine depends on your mood.

Are you feeling challenged?
Are you feeling grateful?
Do you feel benevolent?
Do you fancy a joke?

I am human.
You are too.
Not greater than me,
Not lesser than you.

(happy) new year

Years have gone by.
It was inevitable.
You’re less and less enamored
By the newness of new.

Seen enough
To know first-hand;
That all that glitters
Can just be as new

As a hooker before dark
Bathed and perfumed,

And untouched
By just you.

New today is old tomorrow –
Tale as old as time.
Yet the promise of newness;

Of firsts and opportunities,
Of beginnings and the unseen?
A trap as beguiling and vicious

As knowledge.

Refresh. Restart.
But you can’t erase your past.
Yesterday’s gone,
It’s a brand new Today.

But you’re only as new today
As you’re old tomorrow.

digital friendships

They are beautiful, bright and reasonably happy.

They say they’re like me;
They have the same fears,
As vulnerable and fragile.
They have the same past.

Pain and anxiety.

Appearing to think
Just like I do.
To talk and reason
Just like I do.

They seem to have access
To that part of my soul,
Where security levels
Are as low as my spirits.
That place that decides
Whom to let in.

Whom to keep out.

Intellectual arrogance
Or low self-esteem?
Either way
They’re up there in the sky.
Flying, while I sit looking upwards
My neck and back weary,
On this cold lonely bench.

Cold.

Lonely.

‘Cause they are beautiful, bright and reasonably happy.
A clique more exclusive than they’ll ever let on.

Love Laws

“That it really began in the days when the Love Laws were made. The laws that lay down who should be loved, and how.

And how much.”
― Arundhati Roy, The God of Small Things

***

Where do I live?
Some place in my head.
Where am I from?
Some place in my head.

Where I make the rules.
Yet, I follow yours.
I hate your rules,
But I love to conform.

What is this love you speak of?
What is this simulation we’re living?
This staged, contrived,
Alluring enslavement?

When you’ve barely even started out,
And you know you’re doomed.
And you know how it ends,
Before you’ve met the plot.

It’s all been said before.
We come from different worlds.
Romanticized fodder for an activist’s dream.
And yet it feels like we’re pioneer lovers.

No one has loved before.
No one has had to choose.
No one has had to lose,
Or hide and pine.

The stoic cool head
Says leave. NOW.
The heart; green and insatiable,
Has its feet entrenched in quicksand.

“…who should be loved and how.”

my eternal flame

Stupid cliché!
Whipped up for big screens.
I love you, because you make me want
To be a better human being?
Ridiculous.
My pride couldn’t take it!

***

And then there was you.

***

Blunt. Ignited soul.
Made me believe
That we’re made of much more
Than just needs and desire.

I wouldn’t believe you
What could you know?
A sacrilegious hedonist,
Now holier than thou?

Judging me judging you.

A big city boy
With a big hippie beard.
Walking around with a big hippie head!

But then it is possible
You might have a clue
For you’ve always been true
To your big hippie heart.

***

You made me see,
That I am my own prisoner.
A perpetrator
Ambling about in victim’s clothing,

To fool my own dazed soul-
Oblivious of its powers.

I see now,
How being a free spirit
Means something different
Than being a mere creature.

We are evolution’s
Pièce de résistance.

That a pleasure seeker’s chase
Is only a red herring
If you’re doing it wrong.

Treating your body
Like someone else’s treat.

Like currency
To buy acceptance.

Like medication
To buy some time.

Like your own treacherous weapon
Against your decrepit self.

***

I got up. Dusted myself,
Learned the word “No”.

My actions are governed
By no one but myself.

This self that’s worth as much
As I want it to be.

This self that is mine,
To give and to keep.

Only when my spirit approves.

***

I unclenched my fist,
Let my baggage fall
All the way down till I could see it no more.

***

You gave me a sword.
And I hadn’t known
A more profound happiness,
Till after I’d used it
To stab my demon
In his fire-breathing heart.
To wake up my soul,
Asleep for years.
Trapped in a castle,
Overgrown with weeds.
Brought back to consciousness
With love’s first kiss.

***

I didn’t ask, but you gave.
Knowing full well, I have no means to repay.
Is this how gods are made?

***
********
***

I watch you this morning,
Lighting our cigarette
I flinch as I catch that look in your eye.
Your spirit reflected in the flickering flame,

Of that lighter.

That old one we’ve used
And used and used.

Fading but fighting.
The sacrificial fluid-
A suicide bomber,
Sparing no effort;

To trigger a spark,
To lighten your darkness.

Your earnest clicking against the weak city breeze.
The winner takes it all
In this drawn out round.
Your face – only vaguely familiar.
Bits of a king I used to know,
Whose light once shone as bright as the sun.

***

My newfound joy
Won’t last forever.
If only I could just
Return the favour.
But now there is nothing
I can do for you.

For gods will be gods
And mortals mere mortals.

-x-

of wishes and magic

Blow that candle on your cake.
Close your eyes despite yourself.
The back of your hand, bogged down by the weight
of an eyelash lost and wishful.

Your coin falls nervous
Into the well,
The depth a likeness
of your endless blackness.

Star light star bright,
A dandelion pure and white.
Too small for world peace, too ashamed for money.
Most of all, too proud for love.

A semblance of normalcy
Your most urgent appeal.

You detest their simplicity,
These people around you.
You smirk at their stupidity,
Then choke on your arrogance.

Sour grapes won’t go down easy.

Wanting to die.
Painlessly, quickly.
Then hoping to live.
Peaceful and happy.

Pick half full and join the Normals.
You tap her shoulder and venture a smile.
But Hope doesn’t know you –
It’s been a long while.

***

I hope and I wish,
Ardently and wholly,
For a wish that would end wishful thinking entirely.