The Poet

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If I do not write

I will die at the Devil’s gate

waiting for him to scold me

like a child

the wooden spoon given as a gift

from one who has decided not to breathe anymore

I write as one gasps for air

after lingering under the waves for too long

wading through the ocean foam

my hands carving letters into the sand

before the tide takes them away

I long to etch them deep

so that these words will stay

a maddening dash of pure expression

along the shore of some nameless beach in Wollongong

October 1, 2017

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I spent the day with a river

forming in my mind

forking into different directions

the water rushing through

lacking knowledge of where to turn

and so it turned too many times to count

forming a whirlpool where one would surely drown

and so I let it out to keep my lungs clear

so that my chest could rise and fall

with the beats of this dreadful day

A familiar echo on the tv

radio

money

ratings

in a world where “selfless” people say selfless things to the cameras

about the rivers in their minds

leaving me to wonder what direction they take

and I ponder the thoughts and dreams of those

voices

now voiceless

ones I’ll never hear nor know

warm hands now ice

clothed bodies now naked on a slab

when they should be talking

and walking

warm hand in warm hand

and as my own heart beats

I feel the emptiness of a place where anger should dwell

a place that instead

houses the serenity of eyes closing softly

this molecule of acceptance for a day

we all know will come again

here

or tomorrow

in some not-so-distant land

 

 

 

 

Paper Girl

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I trace my outline onto lined paper

and glare at the creases etched unnaturally

into my face

Like someone had carved parallel roads

with a box cutter

dividing me into separate places

~

I am now a variety of destinations

Miniscule mysteries for you to unravel

And when you have figured out the first-

simply fold into me like a delicate pleat

made from some delicate designer’s hand

An innovation of needlework

and paper craft learnt in some distant land

 

 

 

White Chocolate

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I crave the delicacy of white chocolate

the sweet hot delight to warm my cold disposition

The embrace of its arm around my throat

not to choke

but to caress me from my waking state

into a dream with thick buttery rivers

and days sunken into the grass

soaking under the Sun

watching this chocolate world melt around me

into new forms

new places to explore

new, beautiful things to make me cry

 

 

Trees

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I am the wild wind

in a world where trees sprout out of the ground

just to breathe me in

Ten kilometres in the air

they will grow

and they will fall

with the ebbing and flowing

of these lungs beneath my chest

~

This world of trees was made for me

and when the mountains rise up

to impede my way

I will bounce off the various surfaces

sometimes smooth

sometimes rough

~

But every time

I will find my way through the cracks

the crevices

and I will find myself on the other side of that mountain

greeting these trees

that sprouted just for me

Release

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The key to infinity

lies at the bottom of a dirt hill

one that you refuse to roll down

afraid of the earth that gave birth to you

too scared to ruin your designer shoes

~

Hit me like a train

and display me on the track

let the world see what’s inside of me

~

If they try to scrape the blood away

I will leave a permanent stain

It’ll bury itself into the earth

and remain long after

the train no longer requires tracks to take us places

~

Crawl into the spaces between my cells

where I have been hiding from them

For I am the blue between white and red

deprived of oxygen and left for dead

~

Cut into my skin so that I may escape

and breathe the air that is meant for me

 

 

 

Princess

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My butterfly blue dress

turns me into a princess

in a world where it’s better to be the bad girl

Where black eyes and a foul grin

deserve attention

receive admiration

The mysterious tempting woman with a dark side

A vision of struggle

how clearly you have suffered

~

Well

I have many sides

both the Sun and Moon have seen

I have scars

I’m a complicated scribble

made with the precision of a first graders hand

My feet have callouses

from years of walking through

the rocks of expectation you laid before my feet

~

So today I will wear a butterfly blue dress

and plump pink lip gloss

My hair will be pulled back to reveal

eyes that have escaped the thick shadow

And I’ll feel like a princess

with today’s promise bowing before my feet