Surprise Surprise
It amazes me that you
All came
Made that effort
Smiles across your faces
Cards brought
Time used
Cars driven here…on time
Actual money spent
For me
To remember me
To celebrate me
To turn and look at my existing self
And for that incredible, fantastic shock, a surprise that
Means I might have worked hard enough in the search
And could have been friendly, and good enough to karma and the world
That you lot, marvelous, clever, caring, empathetic and sweet
That you might care for me
Gives me the most extreme joy
I could ever wish to receive
And will only strengthen my efforts to maintain
This wonderful time
Where you are my friends
And I am yours
Tuesday, 19 April 2011
Poem 57- Why is it so difficult?
Why is it so difficult?
She is beautiful
Kind
Exceptionally intelligent
So, why is it so difficult?
Because life is tricky?
More than tricky,
Shocking, something for which no one
Can prepare?
We are young…now
We are safe… now
We have our whole lives to claim in credit… now
We must step continuously on the spot
‘Til going forward becomes easy
And we know the answer to the simplest question
If all anyone wants is to love and be loved, why is it so difficult?
She is beautiful
Kind
Exceptionally intelligent
So, why is it so difficult?
Because life is tricky?
More than tricky,
Shocking, something for which no one
Can prepare?
We are young…now
We are safe… now
We have our whole lives to claim in credit… now
We must step continuously on the spot
‘Til going forward becomes easy
And we know the answer to the simplest question
If all anyone wants is to love and be loved, why is it so difficult?
Tuesday, 5 April 2011
Poem 56-A series of poems inspired by the translation by Mr B Sugarman of a piece of song poetry by Li Qingzhao- each poem relates to a line of the translation.
When the warmth suddenly turns to cold
We loved
We definitely loved
One another
Our time
And now when the
Heat is tepid
What can we do except
Continue with hope
Our fingers and souls might
Regain their colour
As we fight this impending
Winter
We knew each other once
One time is sufficient
All that is needed
All that could be wanted
That day
That night
That hour
Was all you could provide
And now I sit
Watching the traffic and the time
Pass as I store our moments
To memory
As each minute
Becomes an hour
Each month becomes as year
Since I felt your
Hand in mine
And since I watched
You insert your ticket
In to the turnstile
And walked out of my consciousness
Who can pick them now?
He loves me he loves
Me not
The pile of stalks and petals
Grows as I swing my
Legs, to short to touch the
Floor, under my chair
As I play the game of
A child and I grow older
The remnants of the flowers
Turns to mulch
Composting our joint love
Until the next time
I grasp the stem labeled with
Your name
How will nightfall ever come?
Time has stopped
In limbo I wait for
Creation
For light and shade
For taste to return to my
Mouth and for sensation
To return to my nerve endings
You have paused my world
And the sun has failed
To complete its task
The setting is all that can
Offer hope
And no sinking, except that
Of my tear in the never ending
Stream, occurs
And I watch your life on
Fast forward, too rapid to
Gain entry in my state
Of paralysis
At times like this how can sorrow express it all?
Enough, enough now
My frail body cannot be
Inflicted with these feelings
Any more. No word can
Describe, no sentence can
Portray, No chapter can
Fully embody the melancholic song
In the back of my brain
At times like this how could sorrow possibly express it all?
We loved
We definitely loved
One another
Our time
And now when the
Heat is tepid
What can we do except
Continue with hope
Our fingers and souls might
Regain their colour
As we fight this impending
Winter
We knew each other once
One time is sufficient
All that is needed
All that could be wanted
That day
That night
That hour
Was all you could provide
And now I sit
Watching the traffic and the time
Pass as I store our moments
To memory
As each minute
Becomes an hour
Each month becomes as year
Since I felt your
Hand in mine
And since I watched
You insert your ticket
In to the turnstile
And walked out of my consciousness
Who can pick them now?
He loves me he loves
Me not
The pile of stalks and petals
Grows as I swing my
Legs, to short to touch the
Floor, under my chair
As I play the game of
A child and I grow older
The remnants of the flowers
Turns to mulch
Composting our joint love
Until the next time
I grasp the stem labeled with
Your name
How will nightfall ever come?
Time has stopped
In limbo I wait for
Creation
For light and shade
For taste to return to my
Mouth and for sensation
To return to my nerve endings
You have paused my world
And the sun has failed
To complete its task
The setting is all that can
Offer hope
And no sinking, except that
Of my tear in the never ending
Stream, occurs
And I watch your life on
Fast forward, too rapid to
Gain entry in my state
Of paralysis
At times like this how can sorrow express it all?
Enough, enough now
My frail body cannot be
Inflicted with these feelings
Any more. No word can
Describe, no sentence can
Portray, No chapter can
Fully embody the melancholic song
In the back of my brain
At times like this how could sorrow possibly express it all?
Sunday, 3 April 2011
Poem 55-Limititations
Limitations
If normality is a societal
Construct and inherently
Anyone who is not you
And possibly your own family
Is abnormal by default
Then why should I feel
Offended that last night you said
As a compliment to me, I was
“Weird” and then edited
Yourself to “quirky”
Because to me
I am mundane
The same as all others
And it is my
Ultimate
Normality
That leaves me with
This
Frustration
If normality is a societal
Construct and inherently
Anyone who is not you
And possibly your own family
Is abnormal by default
Then why should I feel
Offended that last night you said
As a compliment to me, I was
“Weird” and then edited
Yourself to “quirky”
Because to me
I am mundane
The same as all others
And it is my
Ultimate
Normality
That leaves me with
This
Frustration
Poem 54- This could get interesting, you might want to take notes...
This could get interesting, you might want to take notes...
That’s interesting
At the first sign that I might have more going on
Than listening to you talk rubbish
You can’t be bothered to see me
That’s interesting
When I call you out on your lack of interest
You’re not in the mood
You can’t be bothered to even attempt an apology or care
That’s interesting
I’m sitting in my house with a tearstained face
And you’re no where to be seen
Not crying over you
But I thought you and your attention might help me
To feel better
But interestingly enough
Rather than provide me with emotional sustenance
You would rather place your superficiality over the chance to make someone else
Happy
I think that’s where we differ, in general,
Except this this case
Where I am being as selfish as you are
Hoping you will spend your time making me ok
Whereas you’re sitting there hoping,
Even though you have now annoyed me,
I might still consider fellating you
I’ll tell you now , I wont.
Now, isn’t that interesting?
That’s interesting
At the first sign that I might have more going on
Than listening to you talk rubbish
You can’t be bothered to see me
That’s interesting
When I call you out on your lack of interest
You’re not in the mood
You can’t be bothered to even attempt an apology or care
That’s interesting
I’m sitting in my house with a tearstained face
And you’re no where to be seen
Not crying over you
But I thought you and your attention might help me
To feel better
But interestingly enough
Rather than provide me with emotional sustenance
You would rather place your superficiality over the chance to make someone else
Happy
I think that’s where we differ, in general,
Except this this case
Where I am being as selfish as you are
Hoping you will spend your time making me ok
Whereas you’re sitting there hoping,
Even though you have now annoyed me,
I might still consider fellating you
I’ll tell you now , I wont.
Now, isn’t that interesting?
Poem 53-So what now?
So what now?
I think I’m going to cry
Not for any reason I can describe
I feel confused and happy
I feel sad and angry
I feel fulfilled yet totally unsure of what is meant to be happening
What is the point of our friendship?
What is the point of our relationship?
What is the point of making an effort,
Or trying
Something new,
Or doing nice things for other people, or letting you kiss me
Or being me?
If you end up with nothing
In the end there is nothing
Sitting here doing nothing is only a precursor to that nothing
All nothing
Tee tee tee tee Tee tee tee Tee TEE tee
I think I’m going to cry
Not for any reason I can describe
I feel confused and happy
I feel sad and angry
I feel fulfilled yet totally unsure of what is meant to be happening
What is the point of our friendship?
What is the point of our relationship?
What is the point of making an effort,
Or trying
Something new,
Or doing nice things for other people, or letting you kiss me
Or being me?
If you end up with nothing
In the end there is nothing
Sitting here doing nothing is only a precursor to that nothing
All nothing
Tee tee tee tee Tee tee tee Tee TEE tee
Saturday, 2 April 2011
Poem 52- Opposites Day
Opposites Day
“I think that might be backwards”
I said
As you confidently draw a backwards three
“It’s not” you say
“My mummy showed me”
“I’ve drawn a P,” you say
“It was meant to be a 9”
“Just start at the top
Go
Round
And go
Down
It will be fine “ I say, “Just copy me"
“I think that might be backwards”
I said
As you confidently draw a backwards three
“It’s not” you say
“My mummy showed me”
“I’ve drawn a P,” you say
“It was meant to be a 9”
“Just start at the top
Go
Round
And go
Down
It will be fine “ I say, “Just copy me"
Poem 51 - In the throws of verbal intercourse
In the throws of verbal intercourse
You’re very sweet
No one could say you’re not
Some would say you’re good looking
And they might be right
But if I find every word you
Say
Mundane
Artificial
Platitudinous
Should I risk it?
For the compliments
The nights out
The squeeze on the hip
And the late night kisses
Or is it really
A waste of time
A dead end
A means to an end
And a farce
Where you talk and through my happiness
To receive positivity and busyness
Perpetuate this liaison as in the dark
It might not matter
As long as we’re not alone
And everyday we grow older
You’re very sweet
No one could say you’re not
Some would say you’re good looking
And they might be right
But if I find every word you
Say
Mundane
Artificial
Platitudinous
Should I risk it?
For the compliments
The nights out
The squeeze on the hip
And the late night kisses
Or is it really
A waste of time
A dead end
A means to an end
And a farce
Where you talk and through my happiness
To receive positivity and busyness
Perpetuate this liaison as in the dark
It might not matter
As long as we’re not alone
And everyday we grow older
Thursday, 31 March 2011
Poem 50- When they love their children as much as they hate us the war will be over ( the Israe-l Palestine conflict as a metaphor for divorce)
When they love their children as much as they hate us the war will be over
Its doesn't matter which side your on
Whether your a viva viva palestina
Or an am yisrael chai
You know which side is evil, committed all
Wrongs, sometimes you meet people who
Extol the virtues of this treacherous,
Terrible oppressor /terrorist
With their shock and awe tactics and
Disregard for freedom or the right to life And the pursuit of happiness
And sometimes for a minute, particularly
When you talk to someone you think is
Intelligent it becomes harder to maintain the
View on this malignant party you tried hard
To campaign for and against and although
Peace (of mind) is all you want
All you could dream of
With this entity at the negotiating table
Independence is swapped for catastrophe And war
If you give them what they want you will
Have nothing except the need to a right of
Return to a better time
Its doesn't matter which side your on
Whether your a viva viva palestina
Or an am yisrael chai
You know which side is evil, committed all
Wrongs, sometimes you meet people who
Extol the virtues of this treacherous,
Terrible oppressor /terrorist
With their shock and awe tactics and
Disregard for freedom or the right to life And the pursuit of happiness
And sometimes for a minute, particularly
When you talk to someone you think is
Intelligent it becomes harder to maintain the
View on this malignant party you tried hard
To campaign for and against and although
Peace (of mind) is all you want
All you could dream of
With this entity at the negotiating table
Independence is swapped for catastrophe And war
If you give them what they want you will
Have nothing except the need to a right of
Return to a better time
Thursday, 24 March 2011
Poem 49-Stop time, things (don’t) change
Stop time, things (don’t) change
She was the director of epics
With casts of hundreds
As I watched in awe
She was the manager of a perfume shop,
But only seasonally,
She was a boxer, a teacher, and an explorer
She knew the answers to every question
The script to every film
She was my example
She is my example
Tomorrow and tomorrow
She was all things
She is all things
Tomorrow and tomorrow
She was the director of epics
With casts of hundreds
As I watched in awe
She was the manager of a perfume shop,
But only seasonally,
She was a boxer, a teacher, and an explorer
She knew the answers to every question
The script to every film
She was my example
She is my example
Tomorrow and tomorrow
She was all things
She is all things
Tomorrow and tomorrow
Poem 48- A poem for my sister
Your respect is more important
Your compliments mean more
Your positive attention is like a blessing
I know I am lucky to get
Your kindness spills over buckets
Your soul is light and beautiful
Your face is like a painting so exquisite
I feel like I should be charged entry every time I look
Oh! What chance I have that my egg was
The one fertilized after your and
We get to pass this life together
No games, no pretending
you are mine
Your compliments mean more
Your positive attention is like a blessing
I know I am lucky to get
Your kindness spills over buckets
Your soul is light and beautiful
Your face is like a painting so exquisite
I feel like I should be charged entry every time I look
Oh! What chance I have that my egg was
The one fertilized after your and
We get to pass this life together
No games, no pretending
you are mine
Saturday, 19 March 2011
Poem 47- The battle for the essence
The battle for the essence
My soul is an itinerant
A Bedouin
It is a drifter with out a passport
Occasionally taking up residence in my body
It stays for those days it is too rainy to wonder the street
To dark to see your way without a torch
Or to dangerous to walk without someone else for company
And days when the conditions are favorable, or in the aftermath
Of those other times
I have to coax it inside
Convince it my being is the best place to house
Its wit, sense of self, motivations, interest and emotions
“Come back in"
I say
“I can’t do this without you”
My soul is an itinerant
A Bedouin
It is a drifter with out a passport
Occasionally taking up residence in my body
It stays for those days it is too rainy to wonder the street
To dark to see your way without a torch
Or to dangerous to walk without someone else for company
And days when the conditions are favorable, or in the aftermath
Of those other times
I have to coax it inside
Convince it my being is the best place to house
Its wit, sense of self, motivations, interest and emotions
“Come back in"
I say
“I can’t do this without you”
Friday, 18 March 2011
Poem 46- Kurer, S (2011) Hurt, volume 11, London: Winnington Press
Kurer, S (2011) Hurt, volume 11 London: Winnington Press
The other volumes of this epic
Are not published where you can read them
But they are engraved on my veins
Chiseled on the back of my eye lids
Stamped on my synapses
Each inch of me bellows
Each follicle, each cell, each lobe
Knows the stories and the anger
But this volume is shared amongst us
This ode to pain allocated mutually
A contract from me
To you
Through
Which
I
Divide this life
And
In time
Own
The hurt, the anecdotal displays of each moment as if it’s a comedic masterpiece, the repercussions, and the ways to change the future
The other volumes of this epic
Are not published where you can read them
But they are engraved on my veins
Chiseled on the back of my eye lids
Stamped on my synapses
Each inch of me bellows
Each follicle, each cell, each lobe
Knows the stories and the anger
But this volume is shared amongst us
This ode to pain allocated mutually
A contract from me
To you
Through
Which
I
Divide this life
And
In time
Own
The hurt, the anecdotal displays of each moment as if it’s a comedic masterpiece, the repercussions, and the ways to change the future
Poem 45- Saboteur
Saboteur
In the light he waits
I pretend its night
And try not to see through the shadows
It creeps up
I am not scared
As I do not know to prepare
For calamity
With shock I cry and shake
Entirely rocked by you abstract vision
And abnormal choices
My face is wet
My forgiving soul is screaming
My brain knows this is how it will always be
And change is not a word in your vocabulary
But you know all the rules to every childish game
Regulations too complicated
Prize too great
My sanity, my soul
At stake
In exchange for a token to play
In the light he waits
I pretend its night
And try not to see through the shadows
It creeps up
I am not scared
As I do not know to prepare
For calamity
With shock I cry and shake
Entirely rocked by you abstract vision
And abnormal choices
My face is wet
My forgiving soul is screaming
My brain knows this is how it will always be
And change is not a word in your vocabulary
But you know all the rules to every childish game
Regulations too complicated
Prize too great
My sanity, my soul
At stake
In exchange for a token to play
Poem 44- Mi Casa
Mi casa
If my things belong to me
I assume my life is one of those things
And I thought that was an obvious conclusion
If I am the custodian
I assume there is no confiscation box
And even if there were it wouldn’t belong to you
If this is the case
I assume you not understand
Si no te puedas comprender lo
Que mi casa, mis cosas, mi vida, no es su casa
Asi Pues
Que te jodas
If my things belong to me
I assume my life is one of those things
And I thought that was an obvious conclusion
If I am the custodian
I assume there is no confiscation box
And even if there were it wouldn’t belong to you
If this is the case
I assume you not understand
Si no te puedas comprender lo
Que mi casa, mis cosas, mi vida, no es su casa
Asi Pues
Que te jodas
Tuesday, 15 March 2011
Poem 43- Our Roles
Our Roles
If I pay for this drink
And u pay for dinner next time
Maybe we can ignore the steamy sex we could have
If u tell me about that brunette in your English lit seminar
And I ask for advice about that guy I kissed when I was drunk
Maybe we can put that lingering look to one side
If even when we kiss or touch after that 'crazy' party or that sad chat we had about your mum's childhood we maintain we're friends or adults up for a bit of fun or that we we're both filled to the brim with sexual frustration. We won't ruin this friendship or this flirty banter and neither of us will get hurt
That's fine with me
Sometimes
And when its not
If its not we'll always be each others back up for when I'm 50
And living with 13 cats
And your dreams and body
Have gone south
If I pay for this drink
And u pay for dinner next time
Maybe we can ignore the steamy sex we could have
If u tell me about that brunette in your English lit seminar
And I ask for advice about that guy I kissed when I was drunk
Maybe we can put that lingering look to one side
If even when we kiss or touch after that 'crazy' party or that sad chat we had about your mum's childhood we maintain we're friends or adults up for a bit of fun or that we we're both filled to the brim with sexual frustration. We won't ruin this friendship or this flirty banter and neither of us will get hurt
That's fine with me
Sometimes
And when its not
If its not we'll always be each others back up for when I'm 50
And living with 13 cats
And your dreams and body
Have gone south
Sunday, 13 March 2011
Poem 42- Satisfaction
Satisfaction
You know that feeling you get,
After eating a big delicious meal?
Where there was enough food
So you ate up until the moment
You were full
Comfortable
Content
Fulfilled
That’s how I feel when I spend time with you
Quenched, whole, peaceful and serine
You satisfy everything about me, even the parts
I’m not sure about
You know that feeling you get,
After eating a big delicious meal?
Where there was enough food
So you ate up until the moment
You were full
Comfortable
Content
Fulfilled
That’s how I feel when I spend time with you
Quenched, whole, peaceful and serine
You satisfy everything about me, even the parts
I’m not sure about
Saturday, 12 March 2011
Poem 41 - Affirmation
Affirmation
There is a baby in a red spotty jumper sitting safely in the basket on the front of a bicycle.
Its little face lit up with fun
Its eyes spread wide due to a combination of the breeze and the fear
Its curly hair bobbing with the motion of the bike
Reminding, inviting, prescribing simple pleasures
Smiles creep across the faces of all who see.
There is a baby in a red spotty jumper sitting safely in the basket on the front of a bicycle.
Its little face lit up with fun
Its eyes spread wide due to a combination of the breeze and the fear
Its curly hair bobbing with the motion of the bike
Reminding, inviting, prescribing simple pleasures
Smiles creep across the faces of all who see.
Poem 40- Football
Football
I don’t talk to you about the
Football because I want to
I do it because I think you do
If you explain the points system
Or the rankings of the teams in the
FA Cup League table
You might forget we’ve hardly
Spoken in months, because
What happened caused us to be
Without words, kind or otherwise
I don’t talk to you about how I
Feel not because I don’t want to
But because I know you don’t want me to
My feelings, like my personality
Are too much
So lets just forget it all and have
An awkward and boring conversation
About the football, even though
I don’t want to and you know it
I don’t talk to you about the
Football because I want to
I do it because I think you do
If you explain the points system
Or the rankings of the teams in the
FA Cup League table
You might forget we’ve hardly
Spoken in months, because
What happened caused us to be
Without words, kind or otherwise
I don’t talk to you about how I
Feel not because I don’t want to
But because I know you don’t want me to
My feelings, like my personality
Are too much
So lets just forget it all and have
An awkward and boring conversation
About the football, even though
I don’t want to and you know it
Poem 39- What Married People Do- ( After a weekend of overhearing/ chatting about marriage i have decided to break out and old poem i wrote on the topic)
What Married People Do
How should I know what married people do?
If they sit in a haze of love and lust
Content in the knowledge they have found
What they searched for.
Do they spend hours?
Breathing in the smell of perfection?
Are they safe in the new amalgamated unit they have become?
Will they know if they have maintained a constant self of have they subsided in to co- dependency with all they have?
Or are they just happy they don’t have to be unsafe anymore,
To surrender to the structures they were taught to value above any other
Convinced its better to be together than alone
How should I know what married people do?
If they sit in a haze of love and lust
Content in the knowledge they have found
What they searched for.
Do they spend hours?
Breathing in the smell of perfection?
Are they safe in the new amalgamated unit they have become?
Will they know if they have maintained a constant self of have they subsided in to co- dependency with all they have?
Or are they just happy they don’t have to be unsafe anymore,
To surrender to the structures they were taught to value above any other
Convinced its better to be together than alone
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)