All is full of love…

Sometimes we need to take time to remember “All Is Full Of Love”
You’ll be given love

You’ll be taken care of

You’ll be given love

You have to trust it
Maybe not from the sources

You have poured yours

Maybe not from the directions

You are staring at
Twist your head around

It’s all around you

All is full of love

All around you
All is full of love

You just ain’t receiving

All is full of love

Your phone is off the hook

All is full of love

Your doors are all shut

All is full of love!
All is full of love

All is full of love

All is full of love

All is full of love

All is full of love

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Narrow Margins

I can’t ever get this song out of my head. The words, oh the words, they say my all thoughts. The melody gets me in the pit everytime.

“Narrow Margins”
I can’t live this way

Breaking all my rules again

Choking on my gin

You push ’til I give in

‘Til the loser always wins
Somehow with his beckoning

Bruising with his threads

Confusing what he says

But I won’t live that way

Though I kind of want to anyway

Kind of want to play

With all the pretty and the pure

Well I return to the earth

I return to the dust

No more beauty by the pound

And this I do not trust
‘Cause nothing forgives

Rules and narrow margins

In our lives

It’s rules and narrow margins

But I will slip by
I can’t find the time

I don’t know the future

I couldn’t bring that past back

I waste what little time I have
But I swear I almost touched it

Yet it slipped between my fingers

Sent shivers down my spine

Cut a splinter in my mind
But it wasn’t nothing, again

These rules and narrow margins

But our life

Is rules and narrow margins

But I will slip by
Rules and narrow margins

Rules and narrow margins

But I will slip by
Half Moon Run

Shabby Wisteria

Planted with hope and a twenty year wait,

Then pastel and fierce for only a blink of a year.

Beauty that flourishes then sleeps till next

Wise branches that lean with a mutual love.
The season turns loudly to spring

And the soft grand display begins. 

A mask of beauty shouting from the walls,

Glory in which the inhabitants hide behind.
Slowly it climbs and it reaches for sun,

Stealing the light as it casts it’s shade.

Delicate and twisted boughs that some say damage,

Buy look again; they twine not grip, the strength is within.
Notoriously difficult to tame and left

To spread beyond it’s borders.

A fragile dance between conquerer and artist,

This year it could have bloomed better with just a little care.
New people come and go behind its wall.

It’s fragile existence is in their hands,

Each time it drops it’s shabby confetti,

But it promises you to always bloom after the darkest winter.

Blink and you’ll miss it.

The sun barely shines in the bright cold sky. The cold creeps in every gap and forgotten tuck-in.

The bonfire burns old whilst the smoke writes the memories across the sky. Warming the sun bleached snow as it melts into clear furrows.

The land sighs as it sleeps, turns over, seeing the Sun isn’t shining she goes back to her dreams. The excitement and magic melts away, the only day you wish the sun took leave.

In a day the stream flows. Playing it’s cool melody on the slowly warming rocks. The pond might be frozen but it’s path is too risky to find out.

With fingers wrapped in gloves that make them too cumbersome. Take off the gloves, use your hands briefly before they freeze and become just as clumsy.

The crow carries the sound of winter on its breath, Its black heart never dies.Only chased away by birds of song, shrill and tinkling, dancing in the fragile sun.

All that’s left of the snow is the snagged fleece in brambles; fake snow that sparkles with dew. My fingers bleed on it’s purity as I snatch it from the branches.

Pines that defy the cold breathe their sent into the warming air. Something is afoot, but blink and you’ll miss it.

 

Disentangle

ropeknife

You say we were two lives that need to disentangle.

But really some of each other became the other one.

That’s the problem. Where do you stop and I begin?

It’s less un-knotting and more a case of cutting it out.

It’s not like cutting out fat, sugar and carbs for my diet to make myself more attractive.

If I do this then I crave the bad.

Maybe I let a remanent of us remain?

It’s a dangerous game, I binge then purge.

More than that its like something that’s diseased.

You cut the tumour out stop it spreading.

I find rancid places to cut you out.

A surgeon, a butcher, a self-harmer.

I peel the taste buds from my tongue

because they shared a love of flavours,

that only we could understand and create.

A menu bittersweet.

I gauge the black place in my heart.

Like cutting the mould from cheese to preserve the rest.

Yet you always worry there’s some you didn’t remove,

and you’ll end up all bile inside.

I remove objects and reminders from my home.

Like cutting the pieces of a stencil,

to make it make a new pattern.

I like the way it looks better than before.

I cut poisonous people out of my life,

it’s an attempt to make it happier, but really I’m afraid.

Scared of their judgement,

because that’s what I became.

Some cut the story from the paper

in order to remember and celebrate.

But the card from last year which says ‘I’m still glad I’m in love with you’

is better forgotten as a manipulative lie.

I cut the nails from my toes,

to stop gouging out the flash at the sides.

Occasionally I don’t do it straight enough,

those feet that danced together become hot and infected.

I dig at my flesh, open wounds and peel back scabs.

I cut you out of me but I keep forgetting where me ends and you begin.

I bleed a little to prove I’m still alive,

and it’s still possible to hurt.

Maybe I’ll let a small piece stay,

like an inked scar to mark the moment we were one.

Is this violent act self harm self-preservation? Cruel to be kind?

I cut away part of myself to make room for more.

Sticks and Stones

sticksandstones

Sticks and stones may break my bones

But your actions hurt me more.
Your sticks were words you brandished

The light inside was done for.

 

Your stones were all the burdens

Put on us through pain inside.

 

My wounds are already mending

But the scars will never hide.

 

A childish story of spite

Spun by your pride and ego.

 

Why it happened I can forgive,

But I’ll never let cruel go.

 

A lie upon lie, over again

To make me question the real.

 

Now its over, dead and gone

I can finally heal.

 

 

 

Coal

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The forest grew with strength and youth,

It stood firm despite the storms that raged,

It waited patiently and slowly spread it’s roots.

 

The canopy saw centuries of skies pass.

It waited faithfully, a new life meant to be,

Meant to live in this moment and thrive.

 

But it was over as quick as it had begun,

The waters came and the earth swelled,

The forest took its last breath of freedom.

 

It’s body buried under the weight of destruction,

Long limbs longed for the air again.

Under the burden of years of more and more soil.

 

The heat rose as it was pushed further inside,

It’s heart turned as black as coal,

My heart turned as black as coal.

 

Your words were the destruction reigned,

Your actions were the weight that killed,

That turned my heart to a forgotten fossil.

 

Some time later the ground was opened,

Someone good saw gold in the black

They began to pick at the edges of the dark.

 

It wouldn’t be easy, mining deep in the earth,

Coughing the poisonous choking dust.

Lungs black they knew there was something more.

 

They lit a fire deep within and saw how brightly it burned.

How it was able to fill their world with warmth,

An energy that glowed and built cities.

 

Inevitably came the smog that threatened to kill,

A self destruction where there was once hope,

Lives lost in deep caverns and pits.

 

They could see my heart for what it was destined to be,

In the wastelands they dared to plant a new forest,

And life began again, and again, and again.

 

 

The Owl and the Pussy Cat (re-imagined)

 

I
The Owl and the Pussy-cat went to sea
In a beautiful pea green boat,
They took some honey, but never had money,
Wrapped up in his old black coat.
The Owl looked up to the stars above,
And sang to a small guitar,
‘O lovely girl! Who never knew love,
What a beautiful girl you are,
You are,
You are!
What a beautiful girl you are!’

 

II
Puss said to the Owl, ‘You promise me true?
How charmingly sweet you sing!
We’ll run away! If you promise me this:
As my heart is a fierce fragile thing?’
They sailed away, for six years and a day,
To the house where the forest grew thick.
And there in a wood their haven stood.
They lit a fire and watched the flames flick,
Flames flick,
Flames flick,
They watched the flames flick.

 

III
‘Dear Cat, are you willing to sell me your trust?’
My trust?’ said the Puss, ‘I will.’
So he took it away, lived for the day
By the house that stood on the hill.
They dined on things grown, from what they had sown,
Which they ate with a borrowed spoon;
And hand in hand, on the edge of the land,
They danced by the light of the moon,
The moon,
The moon,
They danced by the light of the moon.

 

 

Shadow People

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She stirred and before she properly awoke, she sensed they were there,

Shifting shapes swam on the ceiling,

Their constitution nothing but swirls of sooty smoke.

 

She listened to their whispers and knew one day she would be the same,

Their path was blocked, that was all,

With tenderness she willed them on to their next.

 

Another time she stirred from her slumber ill at ease,

The acrid smog oozed from the walls,

It ran down the paint and slithered by her side.

 

She listened to its husks as it dripped poison in her ear,

Changing form it flitted between the faces she knew.

She thought of love and banished its black soul.

 

She sat up in a sweat, a dark figure lurked with lantern held high,

It shuffled and creaked and showed her no light,

Instead she saw a vision of unspeakable truths.

 

She fell back into the grips of flu and fever,

The night gave no mercy,

Not till morning came was she safe again.

 

The noise roused her from her sleep as it tapped on the window pane,

It’s face looked in and searched the seals for a gap,

Downstairs a record played.

 

She checked through every door, searched all the spaces,

But there was no one there,

Just the ghost of her childhood and something buried deep.

 

Sometimes the Shadow People came,

Each a creature of the night with a distinct intent.

Sometimes the Shadow People came and went again.

 

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Shadow_person

Hawthorn (Maytree)

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She awoke.

It was so dark she didn’t know if she was really there.

She inhaled.

Her face full of the metallic earth, all mud, and rain, and rot.

She twitched.

Her fingers grasped the crisp mulch that seeped into her clothes.

She rose.

It was so dark her eyes could only make out shades of black and blue.

She felt.

Her hand reached up to her matted hair and pulled at a leaf.

She blinked.

The shadows became giants, then trees so tall they scraped the sky.

She noticed.

How much more she could see if she stopped and waited.

She discovered.

The moon shone between the holes in the canopy providing just enough.

She moved.

Clambering to her feet she stretched her damp limbs.

She listened.

Around her the world was slow but more noisy than she ever knew.

She considered.

The path ahead was her way out, why she had come here; to die.

She turned.

The path back from where she came still remained.

She paused.

As she did her eye caught sight of a tree; clusters of flowers as bright as the stars.

She was drawn.

It seemed to become the night sky, full of hope in the dark.

She neared.

And walked with open arms into the mass of branches discovering thorns sharp and true.

She cried.

Each snare snatched at her clothes and tore at her skin, but she pushed forward.

She persisted.

Feeling something ok was on the other side, knowing it was something different.

She emerged.

On the other side of the hawthorn there was a path she hadn’t seen before.

She bravely walked.

With leaves in her hair, the moon in her eyes, and blood on her skin.

She began.

A new life on a path she didn’t know but one that could never be the one she’d trod before.