Mothers Coat

A girl

Nuzzling into her mothers velvet coat

Catching her tears

As they darken the purple fibres

Tears

Never to greet the lines of her smile

Erased before salt waters

Nourish hungry pores

A girl

Waiting

For yellow grass on timeless lands

To weave an emerald blanket

Enticing rainbows

And spirited pilgrims

Who’ll loan their ears

To listen

A girl

Wishing her feet to swell

Grounding as choreographed storms

Dance hand in hers to sweep across the empty floor

Forceful swirls captivate unwillingly

A girl

Tamed

As imposed words are stitched upon her tongue

Good girl

Nice girl

Syrup oozing from the rope burns

Angels who’ve hounded her pleasant ways

Beckoning

For veracity to bellow freely from her skeletal cave

Snapping threads

And carving stories

Her stories

A girl

Nuzzling into her mothers velvet coat

Inhaling familiarity

And buried truths

Of generations before her

Pulsating through her veins

Liquid addictions

And mercury fillings

Tolerating the rotten saliva moistening repression

And all the while

Roots plagued with hereditary decay

A girl

Playing woman

Her limbs alluring wandering eyes

Desired

Like diamond stars guiding the hungry miner

Chiselling

His brow sweating above hers

Her skin coated in brine

And cloudy resin tightly sealing her lips

Well done

You play woman so well

A girl

Nuzzling into her mothers velvet coat

Catching her tears

Until all life has bled from her ducts

And remnants of rose perfume

Muffles the punches

Again

And again

And again

 

Topsy-Turvy

What a topsy-turvy world this be

Where cats go moo

And cows go boo

And dogs live under the sea

 

What a topsy-turvy world this be

Where smiles cry tears

And laughing spreads fears

And a frown can fill hearts with glee

 

What a topsy-turvy world this be

Where stones taste like bread

And figs made of lead

Are crushed to make afternoon tea

 

What a topsy-turvy world this be

Where songs burn words

And words catch birds

And birds drink the bark of a tree

 

What a topsy-turvy world this be

Where eyes do speak

And ears do to peek

And to open a mouth needs a key

 

What a topsy-turvy world this be

Where man loves to ban

And banned is the man

To roam lands of the wild and free

 

A preposterous world, if you ask me

 

 

Messy

I remember our bodies sweating like sea lions

Simmering under the southern heat

Both full of bar food and dark rum from the night before

You drank enough for the both of us

But then you always did

I remember amber stained fingers from your Marlboro reds

Pawing at me

Curves purring

Tenderness ripe

Your hand melting upon my swollen stomach

Comfort deadened your weight

I crawled under you

Towards the sunlight tickling my toes

To fill up again

On something

I remember you stirring

Emerging from the airless pit ploughed by drunken words

A promise of eternity uttered

Yet hours evaporated

Forgotten

And empty longings coated our lungs

Our mouths were dry

For we’d swallowed all we could give

I remember watching smoke escape you

That first cigarette of the day

Rousing euphoria

I was never able to awaken similar pleasures

You wouldn’t allow me to

I remember we never cleaned up

A sink full of midnight cravings

Half eaten pancakes from 4am proposals

“Ask me again in the morning”

Well morning came

And bitter coffee softened the beaten shadow

Clouds of knowing

Knowing the rain would fall

To disperse such words

Never to be heard again

I remember the permanent current

A chaos never ceasing

I remember falling deeply in love with our mess

Mirroring untamed gardens

Seeds sown by others to grow wild within

I remember your divinity

But I was numb

Bursting with an excess of salty tears

Smudging the ink as we wrote our story

I remember the ending

Waves crashing

Eroding the chalk my bones were now made of

My survival depended on it

I cleaned up.

Summer

Heavy days

Smudged clouds

Charcoaled strokes stain the canvas above

Even the bees sound louder

Their hum orchestrated to break such a close atmosphere as this

The Eucalyptus tree has shed

Curled copper crawls upon the silver bark

Falling piece by piece upon swollen soils below

Petals fractured and sage leaves buried

Night creatures gazed upon daggers of light

Children woke, frightened

For as the rain fell during moonlit hours

Mercy was forgotten

No rules

Is, as is

Today, dark tones paint midsummer dreams

Only bare feet on the dampened concrete tames this humidity

As another storm waits in the wings

To bellow

To howl with the rattled voices of broken gods

We are fallen birds

To shelter until a calm glaze softens the sea

 

She

Arms raised

To coast the rippling beat

Hair a mess from the scorching heat

Sweat dripping like rain from the roses leaf

Drenched is the crevice of her porous reef

With bare feet

Her toes skim the ground

Fingers clenched to her Venus mound

A violent thrust punches her core

She coils

She arches

Releases her roar

Skin like golden fields

Craved

Devoured

Enjoyed through the night into morning hours

Hands catching the fire

Branded with burns

Scars deeply set as she listens, she learns

A feral like creature

So skilfully wild

Taught from a knowing held dear since a child

She dances

Her smile salutes the moon

She dances

Hips sway unique to her tune

Permission

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Through the dark days, through the ‘I don’t know if I can feel worse than this’ days, a deeper knowing, a trusting voice managed to convince me otherwise. I knew I had to reach that point of no return before any warmth would entice healing hands, my healing hands over the entirety of me.

For countless days I’d want so desperately to stay in bed, to cover my head in complete darkness and rot, watching the colour drain from my cheeks, my arms, life pouring out from my hands into the air, to be inhaled by someone else, someone more deserving. During moments of self-pity I knew I was still wearing a veil over the rawness, feeling sorry for myself wasn’t enough as the lie still lived. Unhappiness simmered as I painted a smile and pretended I was ok. I knew it had to get worse before it got better. The glass had cracked and I was one movement away from shattering completely. All the darkness I’ve been avoiding (more like ignoring) was slowly being discovered, I’d found her cowering in the corner, not sure how to exist without being shunned, ridiculed and hated by the other half that I’d so carefully constructed as the ‘better’ part of me. I needed to purge this sadness out as it was finding ways to seep through the porcelain veneer I’d crafted anyway. I no longer had control, that’s if I ever had any to begin with. The sadness rose like a serpent from the roots of my beginnings. I needed to cry more, I needed to hurt more, I needed to want to die. Then it came, that moment of believing there was no way out other than ceasing to exist, it struck me hard across the base of spine, my joints had frozen, time had frozen, I was cocooned in a ball of absolute surrender and it scared the shit out of me. I was angry, I was angry at myself for getting so low, angry at life, angry with the unanswered prayers, the wishes unfulfilled. I was so angry I punched myself; so hard on my right leg it went numb. I didn’t care, I kept hitting and for one split moment it felt so fucking good. I’ve never known anger, not really. I never wanted to own such an emotion, never wanting to relinquish control. Yet here I was, hitting the shit out of myself because I was feeling so deeply and feeling was something I never really gave myself permission to do.

I cried.

Not so much for the physical pain but for the way I’ve treated myself so sternly since I was a child. I cried for the anger I’d felt such shame to feel and express. I cried for the scared child I was, needing so desperately to be heard, to feel her anger, to acknowledge how cross she was and to hug her so tightly we’d both loose a breath. I cried for the strength to commit to this moment, to listen, to bathe in the medicine I was finding within, the treasures I’d hidden so meticulously. It’s only once I’d hit rock bottom that I could bury my hands into the soil and find all those precious qualities, a precious uniqueness that I’ve never let shine.

I gave myself permission to hurt that day, to really hurt and cry and vent. Permission was my green light to let go, to feel like crap and release, unapologetically. That day I found all that I’d lost. It’s incredibly empowering to know that you are the answer to your own prayers and on that day I gave myself permission to heal, to be human and to love myself, unconditionally.

 

Stay

You came

I never asked for that

You came

I fought to keep me intact

I failed

You concurred

Bound to the stars

Bound between Venus and Pluto and Mars

The space in-between

Dance

Upon my open palm

Imprint your fingers on my arm

Indulge every part of me

Sink deeply, undiscovered

Under my skin

For where do I end and you begin?

If I blink, will you go?

I wonder why time often feels so slow

But not today

Don’t go

Stay

 

You

The broken bones had set

Yet not healed.

The grazed knees

And darkened eyes,

You liked that about me.

You stirred the mud, the grit

With no filter

Dirt scattered.

The damp, it rose.

As the mould grew, you were there.

Am I to always clean up as you leave?

But it was there already

The ground was stained before we met

Before your claws hooked under my ribs.

The wood chipped

You held the axe

But I did not need you

I could destroy, all by myself

I’m strong like that.

As I howled

You howled too.

As I prayed to the moon

It was you who answered.

Travelling Nowhere

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I’m not going anywhere right now, as I stare out of the window, watching the rain tap the glass, this view I’ve known for 20 years. Sometimes I feel like I don’t want to move from this place, ever. Often the world appears scary, like a string of heavy beads attached to my ankles, dragging behind them the outbreak of panic, to explode unexpectedly and without warning, this is the nature of agoraphobia.

Indeed the world can be a pretty scary place but I’m not sure if it’s the world I’m afraid of, I’m not sure I want to wear the badge of confinement anymore. What if I truly am an adventurer, a free spirit, soaring effortlessly through all the BS of life, just carefree and connected and whole? Maybe my fear is not the world being a scary place at all, maybe I fear that if I let all my limiting self beliefs go; my soul would soar higher than I’d ever imagined it could.

I’m not afraid of wide open spaces, I dream of wide open spaces, and Cadillac’s and desert exploration and all the wonders of continuous road trips going anywhere but here. I’ve never considered myself a traveller yet my imagination always carries me to places unknown, to lands where sweet love songs are heard in the breeze, where love knows no boundaries and I’m not talking about the ‘I’ve fallen in love with another being’ kinda love, I mean lands that bring you back to the love you lost within yourself. I’ve dreamt of living in America, in the jungle, in wooden huts surrounded by bears and mountains. I’ve sailed the roughest seas, resting in the expansive sense of self that only the ocean can coax through the iron walls we’ve built as protection from no one but ourselves (basically boarding ourselves into our own hell). I’ve met many strangers in my dreams who have enriched my life, just after the few seconds of random conversation, who knows where that spark of verbal action stems from but oh boy do I love the wackiness of ridiculous conversation…. How incredible life could be if all weaved more ridiculous into their blanket of reality. Each night I see the whole world, my world and not knowing where I’ll end up next is the enticement my body needs to sleep soundly most nights.

I travel so frequently to such distances in my imaginings yet when life gets a little strained or uncomfortable I feel like I’m wearing ‘shrink-me’ socks and my size resembles that of a mouse. My overly familiar surroundings cave in, I’m caged and all I can manage is the walk to the kitchen to make a calming tea.

I know there’s a deep physiological reason for this, hey that’s why we go to therapy, right? There’s an opinion about everything we do, every habit we adopt. Every belief about ourselves stems from an experience, driving us to form a sense of our own (often warped) reality from momentary happenings. What complex beings we are, or are we? Are we overcomplicating because, as humans we like to believe we’ll find the answer to everything but really, how can we as we only see/hear a fraction of what’s happening in this vast, magnificent universe – that’s a whole lot of not knowing in my book. Maybe, just maybe no answer is needed, or no answer can be forced. Maybe we are led to our own interpretations and that’s enough. As we loosen our grip on needing to know, the changes that benefit us most will happen automatically, like magic. I may be making little sense to you, I am slightly confusing myself right now but maybe that means I’m on the right track, maybe!?

I do believe that we are led. If I think about past relationships and situations that have caused me heartbreak or upset, they are eerily similar, unintended at the time of course, but the patterns have repeated and the amount of damage is always of similar weight.

So, why am I so tied to a place that I’m so desperately trying to run from, why do I feel like I’m being led to nowhere? Many reasons spring to mind as to why this may be. Am I supposed to stay here to learn more about myself (yes, these past couple of years have been a bitch but I’ve learnt more about my inner workings than I ever thought possible, I’m deeper than I thought!) or is that just an excuse, a coping mechanism that aids the deep ache for more than this, of being in this familiar place where everything and nothing happens, all at once? Am I delaying any actions of relocation due to fear? (Yea, this one probably stands out as being the most possible)

Oh hello new thought; am I just looking for constant distractions, anything to steer myself away from the fact that I’m obviously running from someplace inside, someplace that makes me feel consistently uncomfortable? Ok, these words I’ve just written are beginning to feel like words I should really take notice of.

This is why I believe we are led, that struggle and conflict in our life can teach us and when we don’t learn, the lessons keep appearing, in differing forms. This, I believe is why I’m where I’m at, right now.

I’ve read plenty of quotes stating the above and in the many self-help books I’ve digested over the past few years, this subject demanded attention. Yet, my understanding of this has ripened only recently, brought about by the agoraphobic behaviour I seem to have slipped so seamlessly into. I’ve never taken full responsibility for my actions, ever. I’ve felt absolute frustration at others, played the blame game over and over, trying so desperately to understand why others are acting out of such hate, causing such hurt – I must be right and they must be wrong. I’ve hated, I’ve wondered why this shit keeps happening to me yet my endeavours to bring about personal change has fallen short, but why should I change when the world just acts so randomly against me?

But it doesn’t act so randomly against me, and I’m no longer typing detached words, I’m feeling these teachings so deeply inside my ocean of understanding, where true knowing lives and always has. In this moment I’m feeling all the restrictions I’ve built so sturdily around me because this is exactly where I need to be and feeling this claustrophobia is medicine. I’ve been led to a land so stagnant the only way out is to start breathing love back into my roots, to start watering the broken flowers and watch life sprout so abundantly as I tend to these soils I’ve so wickedly stamped on, forgotten, left to feel the abrasive and unforgiving frost, suffocating my vitality, suffocating me.

Who knows, the vibrant lands in my dreams, the adventures, the discovery, could all be to come. To stand tall in the place I seem to fear so much, to take off these ‘shrink-me’ socks and believe, to listen, only then will I be ready to truly explore all that my soul craves. There really is nowhere for me to hide, no dramatic distractions, whatever my soul has been so desperately needing me to recognise, I’m ready to hear. Whoever thought healing was going to be easy… it’s not (my hand is up, I hoped for an easy, bright healing ride, never gonna happen!). Right now, falling to my knees, to give up needing to know or needing an explanation, opening myself up to receive, to surrender is the only option left. Tonight I hope I visit someplace familiar in my dreams and instead of feeling the need to run, I’ll hug a stranger and show them the sights, the places I know so well, the places I’ve grown to love.

The Tree and Me

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“Stop! Look at me”

How sternly he spoke, the old crooked tree

“You’d just pass me by

With no thought as to why,

All the whispers you hear

As you draw yourself near

To us old, lonely trees

You can hear us say please,

Please listen to our stories

We’ve so much to share!”

 

“I’m sorry”, I replied

See, I’d not thought of why

As I’m so busy walking

I’ve no time for talking.

I most often I find

To talk slips my mind

And all through the day

I just seem to ignore those who get in my way.

 

So I said to the tree…

“I don’t walk through these woods to notice the birds

Or to wait for the breeze to carry your words

I take little notice of flowers in spring

Or the feathers that fall from a pigeons wing.

I can’t see the fairies that live in your bark

And the lure of their glow as they brighten the dark.”

 

“HA!” said the tree, “you can see to great lengths

To witness our world, what a marvellous strength!

Most humans will miss the beauty you see

And you are, after all, stood talking to me.”

I thanked the tree for being so kind

I guess he was right, I was not so blind.

“Come rest in my shade as the sun blares his heat

And take some weight off those travelling feet.”

So I did, I rested and we spoke some more

About the trolls and the fairies and forest law.

 

“Can you hear me?” a voice that came from afar

“Sure” I replied, “But can’t see where you are?”

“It’s me!” said the dog as he bounded our way

Looking as if he just wanted to play.

Yet it seems I was wrong, as he needed to pee

He cropped up his leg and aimed straight at the tree.

“It happens a lot” the tree did not care

“They all pee on me, from the deer to the hare.”

The dog perched himself in the shade next to me

In silence we sat, to just breathe, just to be.

The dog then said, “No-one hears what I say

My keeper, he walks the same way each day.

Yet I like to roam around places unknown

But I can’t as my keeper would curse and then moan.

So I ran from his sight to explore places new

What fun that I did as I’ve now found you!”

 

The story continues as next came a horse

“I seem to have strayed from my usual course”

This pleased the dog

“Come sit in the shade

This friendly tree made

We’re talking of nothing,

The best topic of all!”

 

So, the dog, the horse, the tree and me

We talked as you would over afternoon tea

Is it weird I can talk to a dog, horse and tree?

That I understand them and they understand me?

 

Three men cycled by, not a care in the world

Their wheels churned the mud as they skidded and swirled.

Up popped a worm, at first sight she looked sad

But her cheeks, they turned red and her eyes, they turned mad

“What’s this I hear?

I’ll make myself clear

I don’t like the sound

As you pound on the ground

It disrupts my day

I don’t like it that way!”

And so said the tree…

“It wasn’t me!

Twas was the cycling three.”

“Ah” said the worm

“I see.”

 

The next thing you know

There are 5 in this show

And we all sit and chat

About this, about that.

 

The time soon came for the dog to go home

His keeper came by and gave him a bone

“I thought you’d run off, so I got you a treat

Let’s make our way home and I’ll cook you some meat.”

So off they went, and the horse, he went too

“If the sun were to set, I’d not know what to do!

It’s warm in my stables and I’ve so much to eat

I’ve people to brush me and public to greet”

So off he trot, his head held high.

“It’s you, me and the tree” said the worm to I

“But I’ll have to go soon as it’s getting too hot

If I stay here too long, I’ll go crispy and rot!”

She buried herself in the Earth, digging deep

It didn’t take long before she fell fast asleep.

And so said the tree…

“You’re more than welcome to stay here with me

It’s free in these woods, we don’t charge a fee”

Such words, they are truly hard to resist.

 

So I stayed with the tree as the sky painted pink

Not haunted by worry or reasons to think.

How perfect this moment, how perfectly free

I’m so glad that today I made friends with a tree.