Half closed eyes

Heavy lids and half closed eyes
Hard to breathe with an absent mind
Everything slow, so why go fast
Quick to grab and built to last

Pressure points inducing thoughts of –
reminiscent of your thrust and –
bits of chocolate under tongue –
popped balloons, your punctured lung

The bang, the gasp, the fight for air
Mindless fog, hot-lidded stare
a push, a pull, the salty sweet
home-cooked meals are fun to eat

Tip-toe-tip, the sandman comes
turn down the lamp, the candles are on
a brush, a stroke, a tap, a kiss
Something that sounds like empty bliss

Knocks at the door, awakens you
and from your bed, you depart: fresh
Encounter rough carpet, rinse, repeat
Brush your teeth, smile, touch, hands, a feat.

Pack the bags under the bed
set by door and check the clock
There’s nothing to do but wait out the ride
the moon passes and returns the tide

Instead of queasy spinning whirlpool jets
a weighty blanket, cumbersome sunsets
snow settles on driveways, cars, road kill
Freezing touch, sight, smell, sense, thrill

The temperature is rising here,
like Satan’s breath is growing near
and lure into a fitful sleep
not knowing if these dreams will keep

Lest they reveal the broom won’t sweep
aside the dirt and grit from floors
that fucking, hard, won’t wipe away
the evil that has come to stay.

But, heavy lids and half-closed eyes
Sun-chapped lips and sun-kissed thighs
Cloudless days to sleepless nights
Yelling fits to silent fights

Amusement parks have swirly rides
that make you sick if you do try
to hold back laughter, all your cries
the noise, the release, the greasy fries

Shoved down a throat to no protest
ketchup stains on a new dress
Blistered feet from running hard
A story told by old blind bard

Written words cast down on page
torn shirt, sleeves begin to fray
As they rub along the paper’s edge
It tears, reveals the manmade thread

That all things die, and all things end
and longing stops as breathing slows
Love flies up the chimney out of chest
The ribcage’s use is to wear the vest

No gesture of any emotion at all
Lock them up and throw away the key
Flush the shit down toilet drain
These words are nothing but insane.

If the water is never silent

If  the water is never silent, why should I be?

I, the woman who is wild and savage and ever changing.

I, the mother of Nature, the mother of children, of the world.

I, who cannot be tamed at the hands of man.

You can try to forecast, to predict what will happen, but I change in an instant.

My storms are incomprehensible, wreaking havoc on villages, cities, countries.

You will never put a chain around my neck or calm my winds – unless I allow you to.

If the wind may screech and howl at the doors and windows, so might I! And who are you to call the words I speak “hysterical”?

If I mourn for loss and if I become joyous in health and growth, who are you to call me over-emotional?

If your sirens, engines, your pollution, your garbage overpower my peace and quiet, my fragile silence, who are you to condemn my anger?

If you push on my  land, my body, who are you to stop my retaliation?

If you pull my weeds and pierce my garden with your shovel, uninvited, I do not want what grows there!

Who are you to say I cannot pluck the flowers I nurture?

For it is from my body that all life flows. I birth nations, forests, clouds.  I quench the fires you start – in order to save you.

And yet you ebb my tides and curse the life I breathe.

You dig up my dirt then pour concrete on it and walk over me regardless of my indignation.

Who are you to call this my “pride” when it could only be hurt.

Who are you to say I’ve thrived too long since you’ve built your concrete jungle and then locked me at home?

Who are you to ask I remain silent…

When the wind is ever-rustling, and the water ever-flowing, and my pen ever-writing.

Who are you to call yourself greater and call me less than?

Was it not I that first welcomed you into my arms and sheltered you?  You pretended to help me up after the fall, little did I know you’d tell everyone it was my own fault.

Who are you to say you are my master when I already have One?

It is not man.  Man will never control this wildness, this wilderness which is my breast, rational when everything is not, steady when it needs to be:

Mother of Nature and of men.

Who are you to say, I am female?

When I say, I am Woman.

Hypocrisy

Hateful, full-lipped, painted mouths open to reveal pearl white teeth and a tongue
Yelling about something that happened a year ago and their
Polished nails reaching up to scratch the cupboard doors in an
Outrage that has nothing to do with the poverty in the world or the
Children crying in the streets, while their well-fed stomachs digest store-
Ripened fruit and TV dinners and their eyes witness violence they have caused.

I am one that stands against
This atmosphere of death and fear they have created
In hopes of breaking a person down, in hopes of destroying a spirit because
Committing an action that everyone does is unforgiveable, unredeemable
And, to them, unreasonably irrational – to them, those that don’t even know that
Litigation requires an actual violation to combat.

Believing that intelligence still exists in this world
Is impossibly difficult when viewing the catty claws collaborating
Together in time-wasting activities of devising new ways in being miserable
‘Cause there is nothing better than making sure that everyone suffers at manicured
Hands, fake tans, vague roots growing in, growing into an

Enigma, a tangled mess of problems ultimately caused by them
Some which are not real, but rather: devised.

Must they constantly thrust their toxic bleach-blond, berry-glossed, pink-powdered, and
Ugly, hearts into the business of the world while at the
Same time remaining just out-of-touch-enough
To ignore anything real and beautiful and rational – opposite of them.

Did they just scream the word “Slut!”, in absolute
Ignorance, of one of their “friends” and did they at last
Envelope the last bit of hope for the world in a cloud of Pink perfume

&

A bunch of children have just died in a child slave labour factory  so they could
Label themselves with BlackBerry and Apple and something called Aritzia,
So their peers can recognize that they exist on the same level of who can
Overachieve in ignorance and selfishness and ask and answer the question

:

Fuck what you want, what do I want? And go out into the world to not
Understand what it means to be less than because the most important things to
C—-chicks like them is “look at me and how hott I am, and in case you didn’t
Know, you’re wearing last year’s shoes, loser.” Maybe this seems like an overreaction to

You, the reader of this rant, but read the news and understand why what is deemed
“Out” or “in” this season is far less important than people around the world having rights
Undermined and taken away. Bile rises in my throat – sweeter than their cheap perfume.

My understanding

One of the greatest acceptances I made in my life was accepting change.

What a stupid thing, right?  You’d think you’d accept something natural, something that happens every day, without question?  But no.

Especially when you, yourself as a person, change.  What if you don’t really like that change and you want to change back.  I learnt ‘change back’ is impossible.

You can only change forward.

Not striving to move backwards is sometimes more challenging than you’d think. I mean…people usually want to move forward right?

Wrong. Not when it’s uncomfortable.  Not when it’s unknown. You want to stay in your comfort zone; there’s something terribly unsettling about moving away from that. Even if it means moving towards a positive change.

However, once you make that acceptance of change, once you realize it’s impossible to travel backwards in time, you start accepting the future and the goodness it brings.

Or the difficulties.

But if you remember you can only move forward, and there will always be movement then nothing will ever last forever: good or bad.

Accept it, embrace it, react to it, help form it, move with it.

Never give up.