Being not in my right mind

Laughter choruses from my lips and my strong teeth flash,

My arms feel sinuous and my skin like a copper conduit for happiness.

Why can’t I feel like this all the time?


The frustration of an out of shape kickboxer

My body is betraying me,

I want to be strong and meet my challenges with broad shoulders and muscled legs,

but everything is standing in my way,

a twisted wrist, a damaged eye, a shredded calf muscle, a torn shoulder blade.

For the love of my sanity let me heal so I can go and hit someone in a grimy gym

because I hope I am kind, but I need the release

I am not violent, but I’m getting there.


It came from the Fields of Wheat


There is an uncertainty in my home,

It seeps from my marriage,

It curls from my privacy.

There is a danger in our country,

It comes to steal from our children,

It comes to burn the innocent.

And there is darkness in our House.

It sweeps through our laws.

It glides through our roads.

It wears a strong and stable face,

Yet I prefer the red rose.


The many flowered fields

We are red roses in rivers of blue,

Fed by compassion, and dismissed by the few.

We will stand against the waves,

For our red hearts will never be slaves.

For freedom and love we will cherish,

and on justice we pride,

we will feed our children, for there our future resides.

Our triumph is in our communities, our strength in our numbers,

For if we stand together, we shall never be torn asunder.

So rise and rise, never to be riven.

For we are meadows that cover the earth,

And if cerulean darkness comes we will devour it  first.


I always knew you were cruel

The worst part is I knew,

I knew the darkness, the violent ice,

that cast shards from your eyes.

I knew how terribly unkind you could be.

Yet I ignored it,

desperate to believe that someone loved me

and was a friend to my soul,

that they were good.

I try to see the good in mankind,

but they make it so very difficult.

I saw the Earth in you once,

now all I see is a blasted city-scape of cruelty.

The darkness of you is disgusting,

and clings to my eyes every time I look at you.

I try to hide it, keep the peace,

there is no good in confronting one as uncaring as you.

But I can’t help but feel this anger,

this deep sadness at the hollow shell of you.

Blue Poison

You are poison, in a way I can’t believe I fell for,

You’d think I’d learn, after fooling myself into thinking,

a demon was a snowy angel.

You’d think I’d be more careful with a heart ripped apart by past,

uncaring friendships and torn up from unkindness, and stitched back

together with the string of my yellow resilience.

I thought I saw you clearly, I knew enough to be weary,

a little nervous of you and your flinty eyes.

You said such lovely things, that made me feel seen and valued and when you touched my skin,

it felt safe like the way friends should be.

Yet now, you look unkind and hollow,

like the monster you tried to hide has crawled out of your soul,

and is breathing behind your flesh and looking with your eyes.

Don’t think that I am glass in your hands,

I’m hurt but I think you are too, not because you care about me,

or anyone for that matter.

But people will always flock to you,

to your sharp intelligence and beautiful, false words,

and then flee from you when they realise how cruel,

and selfish you are.

And that will hurt you someday, we’re not meant to die alone,

not even you with your rudimentary cleverness and wit.

Do you think by proclaiming yourself heartless,

it makes your actions okay?

By crowing out “morals are subjective”

gives you some sort of license to cause pain?

You’ve hurt people I love and I want to rip you apart and

that tears me up because we were close, I would have torn people up for

hurting you.

Yet now you’ve forced me into a place where I am showing you my teeth.

The real, pain pumping fleshy heart of it all that kills me,

is that I know you really don’t care, I know you don’t care about the loss of our friendship or the hurt you’ve caused or the anger I feel.

I hate that you’re walking around, un-bothered by your devastation, the tail of your hurricane of emotional damage.

I hate that I want to claw open your chest to see if you even have a heart inside,

but I hope I don’t find one, if you have none I can understand the ravaging cruelty

of you. But, if I find a heart in the cage of your ribs I will have to crush it.

For the world is in danger of a monster who can cause the pain you do,

and still have a beating heart driving him forward.

I know you won’t read this, but if you ever did,

I want you to know that I’m not writing this because I loved you,

I’m not writing this because you’re some sort of enigmatic creature, of complex emotions and beautifully tragic eyes,

who had my heart in his hands.

I’m not even writing this to make myself feel better.

I am writing this because I will look back and see my words here,

riven with crimson anger and the yellow petals of my strength,

and I will remember you and what you were.

And I will know never to let a selfish brat like you,

anywhere near me or mine, ever again.

Because you are poison and you never deserved my friendship,

and I certainly didn’t deserve yours.